


100 Leagues

by OathDreamerFic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, The Vale of Arryn, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 96,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OathDreamerFic/pseuds/OathDreamerFic
Summary: Jaime Lannister has abandoned his home in Kings Landing and set off to join the fight against the dead in the north, alone. Jon and Daenerys are preparing for battle as their armies gather but Jaime's mission goes much deeper than world war. Eyes the color of the sapphire waters of Tarth push him onward. Is he doing it for honor, for loyalty or is it for the love of Brienne?





	1. It's Always Been Yours

**Author's Note:**

> There's always more to the story, but sometimes we have our own ideas of what that more is. Here is my more.

**CHAPTER ONE: It's Always Been Yours**

The bitter cold swatted at his face like the low brittle branches of dead trees, whilst riding at a full gallop through a thicket. With his only hand, he reached up and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. He wrapped his red woolen scarf about his face until only the green of his eyes shown. With at least one hundred leagues left to travel until he reached Winterfell, his thoughts were his only companions and the memories of his misdeeds, regardless of his regrets, clung to him beneath his cloak. Memories gave way to emotions. Emotions fell short of his expectations. Expectations led to dread that his promise—his oath to support the King in the North, not only severed any bonds to his name but also to his queen.

Regardless of the many years since his last journey to Winterfell, the damage done there remained. A boy he'd nearly killed was left a cripple. A boy whose existence was forever changed, simply because he disobeyed his mother and saw something no boy should ever see. A boy who stood for the last time in his life as a witness to a betrayal so sinister, that the players stole something even more precious than his legs; his innocence. The Gods' mercy had spared his life and left the boy's vision clean but word of the now young man's third eye, told he now saw everything. Jaime was certain he now remembered everything as well, and blaming a child had never, nor did it still, release him from his crime.

His regrets did not allow him to lay blame on Cersei. From the night she seduced him as a teenager and convinced him to join the Kingsguard to be ever near to her, pushing a precocious child from a window was the least of his crimes. The largest was allowing her manipulation and control to day by day, strip away his honor and replace it with puppet strings. This burden he carried was of his own making. To lay blame elsewhere would falsely absolve him of guilt but the price would come at the admission that he'd of his own free will, sacrificed himself at the altar of her selfish desires.

Only one person had ever seen him laid bare. Bloody, battered and weak, without a will to live, without his sword hand or even a sword to hold in it. Only one, and she was now less than one hundred leagues away.

The white wind blew harder and the air grew colder, and yet knowing he had at least one person who believed him still capable of summoning the better of himself to the surface when duty called, carried him on. Perhaps, Tyrion would as well. Tyrion might defend him to the Dragon Queen and King Snow. However, even his own brother had never seen him in the darkest depths of his life. Only Brienne of Tarth knew the truth and by nightfall, he'd be able to see himself again at last in her warm blue eyes before the long night covered Westeros once more.

Winterfell was under the siege of a blizzard. The graying sky had turned to black an hour earlier than only the day before. Any preparations Lady Sansa had made would have to suffice through the long night. They were out of time. Jon had arrived just before the worst of the storm reached their lands, accompanied by his queen and her envoy. There was barely time for greetings, let alone reunions but setting sight on Arya, gave Jon a renewed hope that having all of the surviving Stark children in Winterfell was an omen of good fortune.

Daenerys' armies were coming on foot as well as horseback from Kings Landing, and Jon feared the storm would slow them down considerably, if not completely stop them for the night. "They'll be fine," Daenerys said, when Jon relayed his concerns to her as the storm strengthened. "As will my dragons." A private meeting between Jon, Tyrion and Daenerys was underway in Jon's chamber. A strategy was building but tension filled the room with awkward glances and an unspoken chill veiled their exchanges.

"Lady Brienne, Podrick and several others just arrived through the gates. I'm sure you're right that our army will arrive soon but we'll see what the night brings." Jon paced as he spoke.

"We're meeting with the lords in the hall in one hour. I'll leave you two to sort out your topics of discussion," Tyrion said, as he turned to leave.

"I believe we'd value your input," Daenerys said.

"As I told you, had I known of King Snow's plan to bend the knee prior to him actually bending it, perhaps we could have developed a plan with which we could have presented a more diplomatic solution…for the time being. Rallying troops who despise me and calling banner-men who'd see me hanged rather than leading a charge is not one of my strengths. "

"And what my lord, would you have suggested?" Jon asked with a sneer.

"Oh, I don't know but perhaps including your only northern supporters in your decision, to make them feel more informed on the reasons for your decision? You do realize there is the strong possibility that King Snow's true motivation for bending his knee will be called into question…don't you? If I may make a suggestion," Tyrion said, strutting to the door. "It would be that you avoid making eye contact with each other during this meeting. Wolves and bears can smell more than just fear." Tyrion exited the room.

"He's right you know," Daenerys said, crossing the room towards Jon.

"I know how I feel and what you did for us. I told you, they will come to see you for what you are…"

Daenerys interrupted him, "What, a usurper? A foreign invader, who's come to steal away your kingdom and demand fealty from your people?"

"No. You know what I'm speaking of. You saved our lives—all of our lives. That's worth more to me than misguided opinions on who kneels to whom. Besides, what difference will any of this make unless we defeat the Night King?"

"Yes, I do understand but they don't, and we no longer have time to prove it. The only way we can prove why we're all here is marching on the wall as we speak."

"What would you have me do? Deny you? Deny what's happened between us because I won't do that." Jon gazed upon her face—the face he believed he'd loved since he first saw her.

"Yes. That's exactly what I'd have you do." Daenerys said, looking deeply into Jon's dark eyes. "We need to set our hearts aside and pray when this all ends, they'll be room for us together in the world—in the new world. Right now, our people need us to lead them."

"I'll not deny my love for you nor pretend for anyone. There isn't a world large enough for me to hide in where no one would see it. There will be a place for us when this is all over and we will defeat the dead if for no other reason than to build that world together," Jon said, pulling Daenerys to his chest and kissing her deeply. "The gods brought us together for a purpose. Not to lose and certainly not to die."

After one long last kiss, Jon released her and walked heavily towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Daenerys asked.

"To see my father."

~:~:~:~

When Brienne, Podrick, Ser Sandor and their Dothraki envoy arrived at the gates, they were quickly brought inside to the great hall and supplied with warm mead and cold eyes. Brienne had barely spoken on their journey to anyone but Podrick and quickly rushed to Lady Sansa's chambers for reassurance of her safety. Lady Sansa opened the door and invited Brienne in immediately.

Arya stood like a silent shadow near the hearth as Sansa spoke. "Lady Brienne. We're thankful you have all returned safely. I apologize for sending you so abruptly."

"Thank you my Lady. No apologies necessary. I'm just relieved to find you both safe and well."

"Brienne, please sit and warm yourself. We've something important to tell you," Lady Sansa said, waiving Brienne to the chair opposite where Arya stood.

Once Brienne was seated, Sansa spoke, "Lord Baelish is dead. We held trial and he was found guilty of murder and treason. You see, as much as my sister and I appreciated your honor and protection, we've both learned quite a lot about how to survive. We offer you our deepest thanks and gratitude. Our experiences combined with the strength we drew from being here together, allowed us to see him for what he truly was and gave us the foresight to end his reign of treachery."

Brienne was speechless for a moment. She inhaled deeply, filled with pride. "I hope you will still allow me to serve you my ladies," she said as she stood and bowed.

"Eternally, Lady Brienne. I can think of no one else we'd rather have in our service."

"I can think of no one else to spar with who wouldn't somehow end up dead," Arya smiled.

A knock came at the chamber door. It was Podrick.

"Yes, Podrick?" Lady Brienne asked.

"Someone is at the gate my Lady and he's asking for you," Podrick replied in a whisper.

"My ladies," Brienne bowed and followed Podrick. The storm was letting up quite a bit now and the half-moon gave the torch lights a much needed hand in lighting their way through the courtyard.

"Lady Brienne, this half frozen street rat claims he knows you," said one of the guards at the gate.

Just then, the rider raised his eyes into the glowing reflection of the freshly fallen snow. She knew those eyes immediately and her own grew wide in surprise. "Let him in! Immediately," she shouted and ordered Podrick to see the man through and find him somewhere to dry off and warm himself.

"Yes my Lady," Podrick answered, taking the horse by the bit and pulling it, along with it's now slumped over rider, into the stables. "The castle rooms are filling quickly my Lady. Shall I put him in my chamber?" Podrick gave her a look of knowing.

"Yes. See him there," Brienne answered.

Just then, the man slid down from his horse and stepped slowly towards her.

"Ser Jaime. It appears you've forgotten your army," Brienne said.

"Cersei lied. I have no army to bring. Once I gather my strength I'll leave for the Riverlands to enlist our remaining garrisons there to fight with us. I had to come here first and warn Queen Daenerys and King Snow." His voice was dry and raspy and his eyelashes and brows were white with ice crystals.

"Go with Podrick. I'll find the King and relay what you've told me. I wouldn't look for a warm reception, regardless of your loyalty to this fight. Without your army, I don't see how any one man can be an asset to this cause…even you."

"I understand," he said and turned to follow Podrick.

"Ser Jaime?" Brienne said. He turned and looked back at her over his hunched shoulder. "Thank you for keeping your word. It is incredibly brave and honorable."

He nodded once and said, "Fuck loyalty."

"What?" Brienne cringed at him.

"Your words. You were right." He said and walked on.

Brienne hadn't much time before the meeting in the great hall. King Snow was nowhere in sight so she found herself at the chamber door of Lord Tyrion.

"Lady Brienne, do come in," Tyrion said, waving her into the room. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" Tyrion poured himself a glass of wine and offered her one, to which she declined.

"Your brother has fulfilled his oath to join us in the fight against the dead."

"Well of course he has. I was there too, remember?" he said, with a hint of sarcasm and a grin.

"He's here. He arrived only minutes ago."

"Jaime is here in Winterfell?" Tyrion's eyes were alit with what appeared to be awe. "Well where is he? It's going to get rather crowded here very shortly. I'll need to speak with Lady Sansa immediately to sort provisions and provide…"

"Lord Tyrion, Ser Jaime has come alone. He has no army at his back nor your sister, the Queen's support."

"I beg your pardon? That's impossible. My sister…"

"Lied," Brienne said in her most stern tone. "They're not coming. I've had Podrick lodge Ser Jaime in his chamber. I suggest you go to him immediately before the meeting. He may have more to impart that we hadn't time to discuss." Lady Brienne turned to the chamber door and waved Tyrion out, then took the lead, escorting him to his brother. However, the crowd was already gathering and there was no time to relay whatever information Jaime had to the King before the meeting in the hall. He'd have to save this regrettable information until their small council meeting afterwards.

~:~:~:~

The great hall was filled to capacity. All the northern lords and ladies, clad in their heavy furs, were gathered shoulder to shoulder and seated tightly as they awaited their King to address them and appraise the dire circumstances that had brought them together on this night. Sansa now sat to the left of center at the head table, facing the room, with Bran to her right. The hall was loud with the voices of grumbling and boisterous opinion until Lady Arya spoke, quieting them as the King, Queen Daenerys and Lord Tyrion entered the room.

"My Lords and Ladies of the North and our gracious allies as well." Jon said, choosing to stand before them.

"Allies? None of us recall any discussion or agreement on swearing fealty to this foreign queen and her hoard of savages," called out Lord Glover, to the groaning cheers of the room.

"Silence!" shouted Arya. "Your King is speaking."

"With respect my lord, the time for bickering over fealty is done. We are out of time. You all know I've pledged loyalty to Queen Daenerys Targaryen and if we survive this great war and win, should you all denounce me and un-name me as your King so be it. But now, right now we are here because of her. We all want to live through the long night and there's no way any of us will live to see the dawn without her, her armies and yes, her dragons. Your loyalty isn't to me, or the Queen or even the North now. Your loyalty is to the realm and protecting all life as we know it from extinction. There are only a handful of us here who know what's coming for us. The wall has been breached. They've resurrected the dragon and the Nights King has used it to destroy the wall at Eastwatch. Bran saw this and relayed this information to me moments before we gathered."

"The wall cannot fall!" shouted several voices in the crowd.

"I assure you I've seen it. The wall at Eastwatch is no more," Bran added, looking up at Jon.

Danaerys swallowed hard, keeping her composure yet looking to Jon with pleading eyes. Tyrion stepped forward. "Please, listen to your King. He has seen them. He has fought them, along with these brave souls you see before you. We must pull together, regardless of our houses or promises, for we have no promise of life once these things reach us. If what Brandon says is true, we'll be lucky to have a week before they're upon us," Tyrion said. He too looked to Jon for assurance. Jon nodded.

"The game is over. We stand together or we fall and die together," Jon said, turning to leave.

"Jon Snow is our King and he's the only King I'll follow. If the King calls us to fight together, we fight, together. However, let it be known that if we defeat the army of the dead, we shall have no one other than the King we chose. The north shall remain independent in the realm to house Mormont. Now, lead on King Snow. We are with you and always will be," LyAnna Mormont said as she rose and turned to leave. "Bear Island will be ready."

"I wish to speak before we go," Daenerys said, stepping forward. "You do not know me. You know only my family's shame and the legacy of my father, the Mad King. When this war is over, I hope you will all come to know me for who I am, not where I came from. I came here to save the north, along with all of you. I am not your enemy." The room was silent. This time, Jon swallowed hard and led them all from the great hall with Daenreys at his side.

~:~:~:~

"Podrick, will you excuse Lady Brienne and I for a bit. I believe we have some air to clear," Jaime said, upon Tyrion's exit from Podrick's chamber.

Podrick gave Brienne a glance, requesting her permission to leave to which she nodded. "Pod, find Lady Sansa and offer her your services in whatever capacity she requires in order to get the armies settled for the night."

"Yes my Lady," he said and bowed to them both as he departed.

A long silence filled the room for several moments, until they both began to speak at once.

"I've left her."

"Why did you come?"

"I'll answer your question first," Jaime answered, stepping backwards and sitting down on Podrick's bunk. "You said, 'fuck loyalty.'"

"I only meant…"

"No, you were right. At least where Cersei was concerned, you were. I didn't know she was lying. I swear to you I did not know." He bowed his head and shook it slowly as Brienne stood as a statue and allowed him to finish. "She conspired behind my back with Euron Grayjoy to ferry the Golden Company from Essos. He wasn't leaving for Pyke. She lied to us all that she'd send our armies here to fight with the North and Queen Daenerys. I've been nothing but a fool and a pawn to her since we were children. She's used me and out of some twisted Lannister loyalty, I let her. My whole life I let her." His voice trailed off as he leaned forward on his thighs and put his head in his hands.

"You told your brother then?" she asked quietly, to which he only nodded. "He loves you, you know. I don't claim to know him very well but I do know that if my brother had done for me what you did for him when he was sentenced to die…"

"I'm going to have to speak to Jon Snow and Daenerys. My only hope is that I'll be able to convince our army in the Riverlands to join the fight," he said, raising his head and then rising to his feet.

"I'm not sure now is a good time Ser Jaime. The small council is meeting to plot our course of defense against the dead. Besides, I'm certain Lord Tyrion will speak on your behalf. Simply by virtue of your appearance here alone, knowing King Snow and the Targaryen Queen, they'll be grateful to have such a seasoned and capable soldier such as yourself on their fighting side."

Jaime walked slowly towards Brienne as she still stood with her back inches from the closed door of the chamber. "They'll have you to thank for my being here," he said, almost in a whisper.

"I'm sure the betrayal you endured, as well as your honor, brought you. I had nothing to do with it," Brienne said, turning her eyes away and down, shying from Jaime's.

"My honor you say. My honor has been to know you, Lady Brienne, and my thanks to you for leading me here stands true." He lifted her chin with his left hand and tilted his head to meet her eyes again. "Do you know why I gave you that sword?"

"Yes," she whispered, stepping to the hearth. She gazed into the fire and rested her hand on the lion head pommel. "Of course I remember."

"You remember what I told you when I gave it to you but you don't know the true meaning behind it," Jaime said, stepping around her and again, meeting her face to face.

"I saw no other meaning in your gesture." Her eyes shot up and met his, her pale face now alit completely by the fire's glow.

"How could you have seen it? How could you have known it? If you could see yourself as I see you, as others do…"

"I know what others see," she sniped through her teeth, glaring at him.

"I don't believe you do, Brienne." He half smiled.

"My entire life I've known and no one including you, who has bitten their tongue to stifle their opinion of either my appearance or my loyalty. A beast of a woman wasn't it?" She paused. "They see a sword whose devotion to her vocation is her only value. That's all they've ever seen or need to see—are we finished here because I'm certain that my honorable presence is required somewhere right now," she growled and spun away, heading for the door, when she felt Jaime's hand on her arm.

"Please, let me finish or I may never again have the chance. Not that I haven't watched every chance to speak to you as it came and passed by." His voice trailed off.

Brienne stopped and glanced down at his hand resting on her arm. She did not speak and she allowed him to finish his thought as she struggled not to tremble.

"While we were together for those weeks on our way back to King's Landing, no matter how badly I behaved or treated you, you never wavered in your duty to see it through. I envied you, at least at first but during that time something changed in me. I still can't explain it clearly enough that I believe I could make you understand but you did this. You saw something in me that I'd forgotten was there." Frustration swelled in his tone. "Can you look at me? Can you give me that, Brienne?"

She at last turned and faced him again but his hand was no longer resting on her arm. He reached down and took her hand in his and pulled it to his chest. "Cersei said you loved me. She said she could see it in your eyes when she thanked you for bringing me back to King's Landing that day at Joffrey's wedding feast. Tell me now, was it love or was she wrong?"

"We shouldn't speak of such things at a time like this," Brienne whispered, glancing at Jaime's hand, still clutching hers and pulling her ever closer to him but she didn't pull away.

"Why not? Why not now? When shall we speak of them then? Tomorrow? Because we might not be here tomorrow," Jaime shouted in a whisper.

"Why are you doing this? You're treading on precarious ground."

"Please…just answer the question," Jaime insisted.

"What question?"

"Do you love me?"

"You haven't found your honor. You're cruel. I was wrong about you Jaime Lannister. I can't believe I ever trusted you or believed there was any semblance of honor buried beneath that blond hair and bullshit. Let me go! How dare you ask…" Brienne's words had barely escaped her mouth when Jaime pushed his lips to hers, still holding her hand pressed tightly against his heart. She didn't kiss him back for the first few seconds but he was unrelenting and not letting go of her hand. When that second did arrive, she succumbed to his affection with instinctual passion. Jaime at last released her hand and although she was still covered in armor, he wrapped her in a tight embrace before at last, ending the kiss.

"Answer me," he whispered, "please?" His eyes roamed her face, searching for the answer until his glance rested on her blue eyes that were now filling with tears. "Never mind," he said, and kissed her again. This time, her hands slid up and over his shoulders until her long fingers slid into his hair.

"Why are you crying?" Jaime breathed into her ear and then wiped a fallen tear from her cheek.

"Before I walked into this room, I didn't care if I lived or died as long as I was protecting those girls and doing my duty." She sniffled. "Now, I'm afraid. I fear everything because I've crossed into the unknown."

"Yes but I'm holding your hand as you cross."

"I really have to go," she insisted.

"Please, don't," Jaime whispered, stroking her cheek as he kissed her again with more passionate intent than any kiss of his life. "Stay with me," he pleaded, leaving kiss and after kiss on her cheeks and lips.

"I can't," she whimpered, as he persisted until a soft knock came at the door.

Brienne quickly swiped her tears away as she pulled herself reluctantly from Jaime's embrace. She glanced back at his brooding expression and frowned through her blushed cheeks as she opened the door.

"My Lady, I've received orders from Lady Sansa. We ride at first light for the Vale per the King's orders.

"Everyone?" she asked, wide eyed with shock.

"No my Lady. You are to escort Lady Sansa and Lady Arya, along with several others and a garrison of soldiers to the Vale. King Snow believes they'll be safer there." Podrick stood still and appeared to be awaiting a response.

"Is there anything else, Pod?"

"Will my lady be returning to her chamber soon? If I'm no longer required, I'd like to get some sleep. I believe we'll be needing it."

Jaime cleared his throat and stepped into the doorway behind Brienne. "Podrick, why don't you take Lady Brienne's chamber for tonight. She and I still have quite a bit to discuss." Jaime winked, unbeknown to Brienne.

"But then where will Lady Brienne sleep? Oh, yes my Lord. Oh…yes, of course m' Lord," Podrick's eyes widened and a tight lipped grin grew on his face.

"Podrick?" Brienne said, lowering one eyebrow as Podrick bowed several times and sped away. "Do you think he…"

Jaime closed the door and latched it. "You're leaving at first light."

"Apparently I am." She lowered her head and turned again for the door. "This is madness."

"And where do you think you're going?" Jaime smiled a coy yet devilish smile.

"Poor Pod. He must think the worst of me," Brienne sighed.

"He seemed rather agreeable to this arrangement. I've never seen anyone so disappointed smile like that," Jaime purred as he stepped to her and began to unbuckle Oathkeeper from her waist.

~:~:~:~

"Don't be afraid," Jaime whispered through his most deep and unrelenting kiss so far and yet his hand trembled when it skimmed the smooth bare surface of Brienne's shoulder, and down the full length of her arm. "I know you're still a maid."

"I'm not afraid of you and I'm not the one who's trembling," she replied, now more relaxed and engaged in their passionate affections. "What are you afraid of?" she asked, pulling her lips away from his and taking his face in her hands.

"Oh, I assure you my darling woman," he whispered as they stood pressed together in nothing more than the golden glow of the fire, "my fear isn't making love to you. I've been here in my thoughts more times than I can count."

"Then what is it?" Her blue eyes sparkled and a slight smile thinned her lips.

"I've never been with anyone else. Do you understand?" His expression changed from confident lover to wounded boy. He swallowed hard and brushed the back of his hand down her cheek.

"Jaime Lannister, don't worry. No one will believe this ever happened or remember us when this is all over anyway," Brienne smiled and led him to the bed, pulling him down with her as she lay.

He took his time with her. He'd seen her tall, well carved naked body before but it came to his memories more as a dream than reality. He was sick with fever and pain at the time and when she stood before him in the bath, towering over him like some pale, marble statue, her form manifested in his mind like a Goddess. He remembered the wet, flat patch of blond hair where her smooth inner thighs met and the slight shadow beneath her small and delicate breasts, as if he were gazing up at her in the clouds. He'd savor every edge and curve of her. By first light, he'd commit all of her to his memory and draw her from that hazy dream into reality. He delighted in the pleasure of transforming marble into tender flesh beneath his hand.

He'd never been more alive than this night—and he wanted to fight and live more now than ever if only to find a new world when the dawn came. As he lay, cradling this divine woman in his arms, watching the dying fire throw soft shadows around the chamber, he guarded himself from thoughts of his past life still existing after this war or of his unborn child. He couldn't control the visions of a life he'd never had; marriage, a home of his own and children he could name…Lannister.

He slid quietly from the bed and tended that fire. He couldn't let it go out. He bore the unfamiliar chill and placed the wood, then stoked it until it roared yellow and hot again. As the room brightened, he turned and gazed at her pale smooth face. She was more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen in his eyes, as if he was seeing her for the first time. The urge to kiss that face again overtook him as he knew he would never again have the chance. Nor could he control the urge to wake Brienne and make love to her again for quite possibly, the last time.

 

 


	2. A Hand of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

Jaime awoke to the sound of metal gently touching metal. Through squinted eyes he spied Brienne, doing what appeared to be fastening her armor as quietly as one could possibly manage such a thing. He lay quietly watching for several moments until she glanced his way, and met his gaze. "Are you enjoying watching my struggle rather than helping me?" she asked with a half-smile.

"The simple answer would be yes my darling, but watching you do almost anything is enjoyable," Jaime replied, raising onto one elbow and continuing to watch her labor until he could stand it no longer.

"You'd think after so many years and these long arms and fingers I could…oof!"

"Wait," he said, rising to help her. "It isn't even dawn yet, Brienne. You know, there's still some time to…" He motioned with his head towards the bed and raised his eyebrows. She smiled a slight smile and then pursed her lips and scowled at him.

"Really Ser…I mean Jaime, must you do this in the nude? It's quite distracting and a bit strange." She shrugged and twisted in her tightly fastened steel cage, to find some semblance of comfort within it. She stepped back one pace, looking down at herself and said, "Have I ever told you how much I love this armor?"

"I seem to recall you thanking me quite sincerely," Jaime said, gathering his pants and tunic and beginning to dress.

"Shall I assist you as well?" Brienne asked, sweeping her blond hair, which was already weeks grown out without a trim, back with water from the wash basin.

"I've become quite proficient at dressing as well as undressing, my Lady. However, if you could retrieve my hand from the table?"

Brienne lifted Jaime's golden hand and studied it for a moment as he fastened his pants and finished pulling his arms through his tunic. "It's very warm. It's been sitting here near the fire all night." She held it out to him.

"Thank you. It will turn cold soon enough," he said as he slipped it over his stump and secured it.

Brienne stood silently gazing into the now low orange glow of their fire, appearing to be lost in thought.

"It seems as if the sun should have risen by now or at the very least, the night would have ended." Jaime walked to the window and pulled back the thick tapestry that held out the draft. "No more moonlight but no sun either. My but the North is a peculiar and depressing place. Have you spent much time here at all? I mean before now?"

"No. I mean to say, not in Winterfell but yes, I've been here in the North for quite some time now. I've been too engaged in my duties to become depressed. Not that the world isn't depressing enough anyway." Brienne walked to the chair near the hearth and sat, still gazing into the fire.

Jaime was silent for a few moments, watching Brienne's face for any expression but found none. Instinctively, he broke the silence surrounding them and spoke of basic tangible needs, instead of the emotions within them. "Perhaps it isn't a good idea to allow this fire to die. I'll get it going again." She didn't acknowledge him. "Brienne? Brienne?" Jaime said as he knelt to place the wood on the fire. He prodded at the wood with the poker and then sat it aside, turning on his knee to look up at her. "What is it?" he asked. She continued to stare. "You know," he said taking her hand and placing a light kiss on her knuckles. "No one is worse at opening up than me, and yet I did it, with you. If you can't trust me, well..." His eyes were alit with the fire's glow when she finally met them. He continued holding her hand and her gaze, with an expression of curiosity mixed with concern until she sighed and finally spoke.

"Are you real? Is any of this real?" she asked in a whisper.

"Well of course it's real. You can feel your hand in mine, can't you?" He smiled.

"Yes, you're right. Yes, of course it's real because soon, like everything else in my life that was good, it will be stolen away from me." She reached out with her free hand and ran her fingertips down the side of Jaime's face, then softly touched his hair, never breaking his gaze.

"Love can never be stolen, Brienne. It can be discarded, betrayed, abused and denied but no my darling woman, it cannot be stolen…not if it's true. No distance or even death can steal it away."

"Don't say death. Never say death," Brienne said through her teeth and squeezed his hand tightly. "It's taken us years to be together. I'll not hear that word or think it."

"Here," he said raising his golden hand and placing her hand over it. "Do you feel that? Remember what you said to me about losing my hand?"

"How could I ever forget." She swiped a tear away.

"You told me people lose things that mean something to them but they have to go on."

"What are you trying to say to me, Jaime? I'll not lose you. Not today, not next week, never." Her eyes filled with more tears.

"Listen to me woman. You told me we have to live. We all have to go on and keep living. Please, should this war take me and it very well may, I want—no, I need you to go on."

Brienne closed her eyes and pulled Jaime's real hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss into his rough palm. "I'll be leaving soon for the Vale and the last thing we're speaking of is your death? No, I won't talk about it."

"Fine, but at least you know where I stand on this. However, if it gives you any comfort at all, I have every intention of living through this. So instead of worrying about my death, you should be worrying about spending the rest of your life stuck with me," he said with a chuckle and then leaned up and kissed her. "Now, stand up so I may embrace the future Lady of Casterly Rock. You need to make your way from this chamber without being seen, lest you'll have to become my bride this very morning and save your good name."

Brienne stood, pulling Jaime up with her. Their kisses were passionate yet sweet and their bodies, though separated by cold steel, burned warm within.

"You're right. I have to go, but I'll need to see you one last time before I leave for the Vale. Will you do something for me, Jaime Lannister?"

"Anything. You need but to command me my Lady," he replied, pushing the wisps of fallen blond hair away from her eyes.

"Come to me in the courtyard before I go. I want you to be the last person I see before I exit the gates," she said, taking his face in her hands. Their eyes locked and Brienne leaned in for a final kiss and then, with hardly a sound, opened the door.

Right before her, with his hand raised and about to knock, stood Tyrion Lannister. He looked up at her and a curious yet devilish smile covered his face. "Well, you're not who I expected but I must admit, I'm more than pleasantly surprised."

"Lord Tyrion," Brienne said, and brushed past him and out of sight.

Jaime stood leaning a shoulder against the door frame, looking down at that lingering smile and then waved Tyrion into the room. "I'd say I know what you're going to say but I haven't the slightest idea what that might be," Jamie said, closing the door.

"For the first time in my life dear brother, I may actually be speechless," Tyrion chuckled. "Although I'd heard rumors of the lady's shall we say, affection for you, I had no idea the feeling was…mutual."

Jamie stepped slowly to the bed and sat. "I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what? Surely you don't believe me of all people would have the nerve to say anything about that woman and that includes her looks or her character. The worst I could say of Brienne is she isn't your type."

"And what type might that be?"

"Let's not do this. There's nothing unspoken between us, Jaime. Enough of our blood has been spilled over these petty wars of words. I came here to stop the bloodletting, not to open old wounds. Truth be told, the reason I smiled when I saw her was because I'm happy for you. I'd heard you and she had spent a great deal of time together and suffered twice the length of that time. I believe I am more proud of you in this moment than I've ever been."

"Proud of me for bedding a maid, I may not live long enough to wed?" Jaime's face twisted in confusion.

"Wed? Oh that the Gods would give us enough time for the entire tale because this is a love story I'd lose a week of sleep to hear, but no brother. I'm proud of you for keeping your oath and more than that, for leaving Cersei."

"Now there's another tale we don't have time for. She made it so easy for me. She gave me no choice."

Tyrion's smile flattened and his eyes grew sullen and sad. "Don't do that. Don't soil your honor or your obvious love for that incredible woman who worships you, by blaming Cersei for pushing you into bed with her. I know as well as you, you were simply waiting for this opportunity since you saw Brienne at the dragon pit."

"I'd love to romanticize this all for you but you know me better than anyone. I appreciate your faith in me brother but had Cersei not agreed to marry Euron Greyjoy and lied through her teeth about sending our armies north to join this fight, I might not be here and…"

"Stop it," Tyrion interrupted. "Something had turned in you long before this or you'd have taken the opportunity to murder me with that sparring sword when you agreed to meet with me months ago. What was it? What really happened?"

Jaime stood and paced the room as Tyrion spoke. He appeared to be searching for an excuse or any way out of this entire conversation but the only answer now was the truth. "Tommen."

"Yes, poor, gentle and kind lad. He didn't deserve any of this."

"When I returned from taking Riverrun from the Blackfish, and saw the devastation and the hell she'd rained down on Kings Landing, and then, finding Tommen was…"

"And yet you stayed for more," Tyrion said low and soft.

"I stayed for more."

"You're here now. Brienne is a fine and noble woman."

"I don't deserve her."

"Then stay alive."

"What?" Jaime turned and looked down at his brother and asked with contempt, wrapped in a rasp of confusion.

"Stay alive and when this is all over you'll have the remainder of your days to earn her."

Another knock came at the chamber door only this one was with hard purpose. Jaime marched to the door and opened it without questioning who was on the other side. It was Podrick.

"My Lord, may I enter?" Podrick asked.

"Of course, it is your chamber after all," Jaime said, holding the door open for him.

"Lord Tyrion. I was sent to find you. King Snow needs to see you immediately."

Tyrion's eyes widened and he turned to Jaime and said, "Dress for the fight brother. We'll continue with our chat after the war. Orders will be going out shortly and I have no doubt your name will be at the top of the list. Podrick, where is King Snow?"

"He spent the entire night in the catacombs m'Lord."

"The what? Why?" Tyrion spat the words like sour wine.

"He'd had a meeting with his brother Bran and Samwell Tarley late last night. I was heading to m'Lady's chamber to get some sleep when he blew out of Bran's room and nearly knocked me down. The rest, I was summoned down there to him and ordered to find you."

"Something is amiss—not that the whole fucking world isn't. Pod, stay with my brother. Find him some food and for God's sake, get to the blacksmiths and get some armor!"

Tyrion flung open the door as Podrick called out to him, "But m'Lord! I serve Lady Brienne!"

Tyrion shouted as if from the back of his head as he went, "And so does my brother so feed them both!"


	3. Let the God's Decide

Brienne stood outside the chamber door of Lady Sansa, gripping the lion head pommel of Oathkeeper. She swallowed hard and then reluctantly tapped on the door. She thought perhaps Lady Sansa wasn't yet awake, but as the thought came and passed, the door opened. "Lady Brienne, we're almost ready to leave. I ordered the wagons loaded with enough provisions for the forces who'll be joining us. Jon is only giving us five hundred men, as the Vale's army will cross paths with us on their way here, giving us safe passage until we reach the Bloody Gate."

"Yes, my Lady. Is there anything you require of me before we leave?" Brienne asked.

"Our horses are packed and if Jon has decided who'll be leading us to the Vale, we can get on our way within the hour. I'm fairly certain it will be Ser Jorah Mormont. Have you eaten?" Sansa asked, tossing the last of the few sentimental items she'd chosen to save from her family home, into a large sack and tying it closed.

"I can eat on the road my Lady."

"We'll eat now while we know we can. Arya's been with the army since before first light so, what she does is up to her as always. Shall we?" Sansa said, as a young woman entered the room with a tray of boiled chicken eggs, bread and fruit and placed it on the table. Sansa waived Brienne to sit and eat.

"My Lady, I couldn't. I…"

"Don't be ridiculous. Do you think the words I spoke to you meant nothing? You will always have a seat at my table. Remember?"

Brienne nodded and bowed, and joined Sansa.

"How do you feel about going to the Vale?" Sansa asked, filling her plate with food.

"I go where you need me to go my Lady. Feelings have nothing to do with duty." Brienne stared down at her plate and pushed her food slowly from side to side with her fork.

"Really? So, would you rather stay here and fight?" Sansa asked, pouring water into Brienne's cup and then her own, glancing curiously at Brienne's sullen expression.

"Any personal desires I may or could have, are not a priority for me, my Lady. My life is in service to others—namely you and your sister. Where you and Arya go, I go too."

"Of course. I apologize if I'm prying. In a way, I envy you."

Brienne sat down her fork and raised her eyes, and the skin between her furrowed brow crinkled. "Me? How could anyone envy me?"

"You know who you are and what you are. I suppose some people always know. Apparently, I had to suffer a great deal to figure that out, but I believe I have my feet under me at last. I have you to thank for giving me a chance to find them."

"Some of us get our feet under us when we realize the alternative doesn't suit us. We learn early on that we don't quite fit into those shoes, despite the disappointment or expectations of others."

"You sound like Arya." Sansa smiled. "She reminds me of you in that regard."

Brienne gave a half-smile and shrugged.

"I heard Ser Jaime arrived last night. Have you spoken?" Sansa looked up at Brienne from under her lowered brow.

Brienne was caught off guard and nearly choked when she took a drink of water.

"Are you alright, Lady Brienne?" Sansa asked, wide eyed with concern.

"I'm sorry my Lady. Yes, yes, I'm fine. Yes, I spoke with Ser Jaime when he arrived. That was who…I mean to say when Podrick came for me, when I was here with you, it was Ser Jaime at the gate."

"I understand Cersei lied about joining this fight. Cersei doesn't care about the North and especially not the Starks. She's done her utmost to rid Westeros of as many Starks as she could. Not that I'd have expected her not to lie. It's unfortunate that my brother Jon doesn't know her like I do, even after I tried to warn him. I respect Ser Jaime for coming alone. I'm not certain it was the wisest of choices, as he's made an enemy of Cersei, but I have to respect him for it."

"Yes, my Lady." Brienne nodded.

"I spent years with that family you know. Lord Tyrion was always good and kind to me. Before Ser Jaime was captured by my brother Rob, he wasn't the same man I saw return years later, with you. I don't only mean the loss of his hand. It was like meeting an entirely different person."

"Ser Jaime suffered a great deal over several years. I found him quite rude and cocky at first but by the end of our journey, he'd saved my life more than once and lost that hand in the process." Brienne at last looked Sansa in the eye as she spoke. "I believe the farther Ser Jaime was away from Kings Landing, the better man he became, regardless of our circumstances."

"I believe spending that time with you had a profound effect on him as well. You're one of the most honorable people I know. Being around you either makes people better or brings out the worse because your honor outshines them. I'm glad Ser Jaime chose to rise rather than fall." Sansa said, smiling, and finished her cup of water in one long drink. "I suppose we better go. I've enjoyed our chat Brienne. I'd be honored to call you my friend someday."

"The battalion is mustered King Snow. All of the provision and armory wagons are loaded. Samwell has sent all of the ravens you requested," said Ser Jorah Mormont. "Have you chosen who will lead them to the Vale?"

"I have. I have a few other details I need to take care of but you may continue bringing things in line. Please, carry on." King Jon's black cloak swept the snow behind him as he marched off toward the castle with a purpose. Jorah turned to find Brienne and Lady Sansa, each on horseback, headed to the front of the line.

A deafening screech, and then another, broke the morning sky, silencing everyone where they stood, following an initial gasp. Most ducked and covered their heads in terror. Some even fell to the ground. It was Daenerys dragons, circling Winterfell. Sansa was awestruck and couldn't pull her attention away from them. As Brienne rode up to her, the horse beneath her even trembled and sidestepped several times at the sounds. "In my wildest dreams I never imagined this sight," Sansa said, as Brienne came along side of her.

"At the dragon pit, when I saw the Queen descend from the sky on the larger one, it was as magical and mythical as it was terrifying. Seeing that made me believe that anything is possible. The Targaryens truly are unique. They're almost other worldly."

"Do you believe it's true that Danaerys cannot be burnt?" Sansa asked, staring forward and turning only her eyes to Brienne.

"My Lady, there are myths and there is lore, but I don't believe there is anything about her that isn't based in complete truth."

Jorah, now mounted on his horse, rode to the front of the line and brought his horse nose to nose with Sansa and Brienne's. "My Ladies. Your escort will be arriving momentarily. Please allow me to wish you God's speed and we shall all not rest until we receive word that you've all arrived safely."

"Thank you, Ser Jorah, and may the Gods watch over all of you here while we're gone," Sansa replied.

"This is for you my Lady," Jorah said, pulling a scroll from beneath his cloak and handing it to Sansa. "Orders from your brother the King, as well as a note of gratitude to Lord Robyn." Jorah nodded one final time and rode off.

Sansa slipped the scroll into the satchel on her saddle and sighed. "I wish they'd get on with this. It's freezing and we need all the light we have left, to travel."

"Shall I go and see what's keeping them my Lady?" Brienne asked, spying Arya riding up and down the line and then falling in alongside the wagons.

"I'm sure Jon won't keep us waiting much longer." Sansa turned and looked back over her shoulder. "In case you were wondering, I see your squire approaching. I almost didn't recognize him."

"I had wondered what had become of him. I haven't seen him since before dawn," Brienne commented, rolling her eyes and sighing as she glanced back for a moment. Her eyes grew wide. Podrick was wearing freshly forged armor. He appeared taller and as handsome as a knight. Pride swelled inside her in hopes that she was one of several who'd influenced him and left her impression on him. Brienne couldn't help but smile until nearly all her teeth shown.

"Brienne? There's someone with him. Hopefully we can finally be on our way," Sansa said, turning back around in her saddle and adjusting the reins in her hands. She and Brienne both pulled the fur lined hoods of their cloaks up over their heads until they could barely see ahead of them.

"My Ladies," Podrick said with a nod, flanking Sansa on the left and then falling back several paces.

"My Ladies," said another man's voice, forcing them both to hold back the sides of their hoods to see who was addressing them, as he galloped up from behind.

Brienne snatched the hood from her head and looked right into the face of Jaime Lannister as he rode past her. Her heart was pounding. She was breathless with disbelief and squeezed the horn of her saddle tightly to stop her hands from trembling. "Jaime!" she cried out, turning the heads of everyone within a close enough distance to hear her.

Jaime galloped ahead of them and then pulled his horse around by the reins and cantered straight up to Brienne, until they were side by side and face to face. He smiled and reached out to her. Then, as their horses pressed into each other's sides, he grabbed a handful of her cloak. With a gentle tug, he pulled her towards him as he leaned forward and kissed her deeply on the mouth, right there, in front of the Gods, as well as everyone in Winterfell. "I told you I'd be here."

As their kiss faded into breath filled frost, Jaime's hand touched her cheek softly before he let go. Brienne blushed, and made a weak attempt at restraining a smile. "You're getting rather good at this."

"Good at what…my Lady?"

"Making me love you more each day." She paused for a moment, drinking him in. He cut a handsome and dashing form as always in his armor, set high upon his horse. "Thank you, for coming to say goodbye."

"I'm free my darling. I can be the Lord of Love and Roses if I want to—and I most certainly want to." He pulled a blue winter rose from beneath his cloak and held it out to her. "It appears the Gods aren't finished with us just yet. I suppose we have no choice than to let them decide what our future holds."

"Please…just don't die," Brienne pleaded.

Jamie dismissed her comment with a wink and said, "Fall in my Lady. I did not come to say goodbye. I am here to lead you to the Vale." With a cluck of his tongue his horse galloped off down the line and back again. "Podrick, no matter what happens, don't let these two out of your sight," he shouted and galloped ahead, leading them out of the gates of Winterfell.


	4. The Kingsroad Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After many long days and cold nights on the road to the Vale, our van of travelers find themselves a warm dry place to lay their heads, if only for one very eventful night.

"How far is it to the Vale, Ser Jaime?" Podrick asked as he trotted beside him down the Kingsroad.

"Nearly two thousand miles. Before you ask, it will take us at least two months, perhaps more," Jaime answered.

"Do you believe it will be safe for the Ladies there?"

"I believe these Ladies are of a singular sort. Although we're enlisted to protect them, we both know we're merely companions and escorts, now don't we?" Jaime looked over at Pod and winked. He was certain that Podrick was well aware of the capabilities of all three women. Although their strengths and skills varied, each of them was forged in steel.

Night was coming quickly as they reached Castle Cerwyn. After days and nights with brief breaks in the warmth of tents and campfires, Jaime knew the cold was wearing on them all and decided to stop and allow them to rest and thaw from the chill. He'd taken journeys like this before and knew they were long and arduous. However, he'd never taken one in snow above a horse's ankle, as far as the eye could see. It could be weeks before they reach dry land but only if they were lucky. It was snowing in Kings Landing before he left. He imagined the city now blanketed in white and the cleanest it had ever been. He wondered how far the snow had reached and after a few moments, pulled himself away from imagining the entire continent painted white.

Jaime's caravan passed droves of soldiers heading north who looked curiously at them, as they headed south. He paused and spoke with the house Lords and explained their journey, as well as questioning them of what they knew of the battle they were heading towards. They knew but they had no idea. Most were simple foot soldiers and cavalry. Archers and ax wielding farmers. Icy stare met icy stare as they passed, yet one thread of truth held them all together—destroy the dead. Save the living.

The Kingsroad was nearly undistinguishable now, save for the trees that lined it nearly all the way to the south. He thanked the Gods for those trees for without them and the nearly invisible sun, now covered almost completely in a thick veil of gray; they might end up miles in the wrong direction. He silently hoped all of Jon's ravens would reach their destinations soon—especially his Raven to Riverrun. Sansa's raven to the Vale had already returned weeks prior to Jon's return, in which Lord Robyn had pledged his armies to the war against the dead. By Jaime's reckoning, he believed they'd meet on the Kingsroad near the Twins. With the Frey's lost and with no one left to mind their castle, he prayed in earnest that their Maester received the message to open the gates and allow them through The Crossing.

Castle Cerwyn was ghostly. Empty halls, save for a few servants left to mind the place. They appeared thrilled to see the battered and half frozen caravan from the North. "We don't have much food left m'lord," an elderly housemaid said as she welcomed Jaime inside. "The wood's nearly all gone as well."

"We'll manage. Is everyone gone?" he asked, removing the glove from his left hand.

"They've all gone north m'Lord. Only those of us too old, too little or too sick to fight stayed behind. You're all welcome to whatever we've got. There's plenty of empty rooms for the taking for you highborn and the stables and village houses are yours to use."

"Thank you." Jaime sent Podrick to gather soldiers to cut as much wood as they could, and get the fires lit in every inch of the castle. He posted guards at the gates, archers on the turrets and even sent out hunting parties for deer and boar. Survival meant food and warmth, even if it was only for the night.

Jaime secured the chamber of Lord Cerwyn and placed Brienne in the adjoining chamber; most likely that of Lady Cerwyn. The hearth in Lord Cerwyn's room was enormous and a fire nearly as tall as Jaime roared within it. After only several minutes, the room was like summer in Dorne, and a bead of perspiration rolled from his temple. His attention turned from the fire to Brienne and he stepped to her door and knocked lightly.

"Brienne, may I come in?" he asked through the door.

"Not yet, I'm bathing," she shouted. "Have you heard of bathing?"

Jaime laughed aloud and shouted back, "For your information my Lady, yes I have. I assure you I no longer smell like a horse." He turned and found a small miracle. A nearly full bottle of wine sat on the Lord's dresser. "One glass?" He cringed then shrugged and poured. That first sip awakened his tongue as he imagined the sweet grapes bursting in his mouth. He licked his lips and savored it, then drank again. With the glass still at his lips, he heard Brienne's door opening and turned at the shoulders. His heart sped up and he blinked to clear the fog covering his eyes—or was it a cloud draped around her that deceived him?

"Lady Cerwyn has lovely taste in nightgowns. Don't you agree?" Brienne asked, standing awkwardly in a white silk gown and matching robe. She was clutching the robe closed across her chest and although a bit too short, she giggled at her bare ankles and stroked the silken sleeve of her right arm. "It's almost too beautiful to sleep in."

Jaime was frozen, still turned at the shoulders and holding the wine glass just beneath his lips, until Brienne placed her hands on her hips and asked, "Aren't you going to offer me a drink Ser?" She tilted her head slightly and posed, toying with him in a provocative stance.

Jaime sprung back to the bottle of wine and refilled the glass. He stepped slowly back to her, regaining his composure and placed the glass in her hand. "You're wrong you know," he said smoothly, running the back of his hand up and down the silken sleeve as she'd done moments before.

"Me, wrong?" she said with a soft giggle.

"You're too beautiful to sleep in this rag." Simultaneously, he lifted the glass from her hand and kissed her, slowly at first and then with burning depth. He forced her mouth open and tasted the wine on her tongue. He stopped only for a moment to sit down the glass and then wrapped his left arm around her waist. With a powerful yank, he slammed her to his body, flattening her against him. "I just realized something," Jaime said low and soft. "Shouldn't you be guarding the Stark girls?" He lowered his head slightly and looked up into her eyes, which now glowed, deep blue with passion.

She tied her arms around his neck and said, "Podrick is posted outside of Sansa's chamber door which is right across the hall. Arya would slit my throat if I tried to protect her. You have guards posted everywhere else. Now, be quiet and kiss me again."

Brienne tore at Jamie's clothes as he continued exploring her mouth, and down the length of her long neck and back again. He paused only to tear the robe from her shoulders and finish removing what was left of his clothes. He again pulled her tightly against him, pressing his bare erection against her silk gown and grinding it hard against her through the fabric. "You…bed…now," he growled, pulling her to sit on the edge of the bed, pressing hard, ferocious kisses onto her mouth, forcing her back onto her elbows. Without a word, his fingertips traced her throat, down over her collar bone to her chest, as it rose and fell with heavy breaths. She sat up, reaching out for him but he pulled back, giving her a devilish grin and said, "No, no, no." And she again fell back onto her elbows.

He stepped between her thighs, pushing her gown to her hips with his hand and then knelt down between them. Brienne watched as he slid his hand up her right leg until it disappeared beneath her gown and rested for a moment on her stomach. She flinched at the slight tickle it gave her as it moved higher until it covered her breast. "Jaime," she moaned, trying to hold her eyes open as he caressed her. The sensations of his rough hand on her skin were indescribable but they were nothing compared to the ones coming from below her waist, when she realized what he was now doing with his mouth.

Her body trembled, delighting him. The more she writhed beneath his skilled tongue the more he hungered to please her. Her movements and sounds nearly drove him over the edge of his own limits, and he struggled to save himself until he was deep inside of her. Every time he'd glanced at her since their first night together, all he could think about was having her again, like this, giving himself over to her in every way he could imagine just to please her this way.

Her body began to shake and she sat up, crying out for him to stop as waves of pleasure overtook her. She reached out, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders, pushing him away and then pushed herself backwards until she was fully on the bed. Her breathing was audible and came in deep, lung swelling bursts. Jaime followed her, pushing her long, lean legs aside and up onto his shoulders as he lay atop her and worked himself inside.

Sex with Brienne was beyond his expectations. He was confident and desired. Every touch, kiss and thrust was received with a passion equal to his own. Brienne was alive—mind, body and soul. Her strength gave their lovemaking a mutual amount of energy that he'd never before experienced—certainly not with Cersei. Brienne wanted to please him as much as he wanted to please her, nearly to the point of exhaustion. Brienne's thirst for him seemed unquenchable and he loved it. At the conclusion of this night, his thoughts were filled with dreams of every night to come when he could have her again.

Podrick Payne tapped lightly on Lady Sansa Stark's chamber door to ask if she needed anything before he made his bed on the floor at her threshold for the night. He was beside himself when Brienne charged him with this duty as he found Sansa to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. In his dreams he often found himself on one knee, an anointed knight, laying his sword at her feet and pledging his love until the end of his days. Instead, here he stood, a squire, rocking nervously to and fro as he awaited her to open the door.

Several seconds passed and she did not answer. He thought her asleep at first, until he heard what sounded like a woman shedding quiet tears. He pressed his ear to the door and confirmed what he'd heard. He knocked again. "Lady Stark? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Please, leave me alone," she called out. Her voice was tainted with raw emotion.

"Shall I bring Lady Brienne, perhaps?" he asked, lowering his voice to where he believed only she could hear him.

Suddenly, the door flew open and he tipped off balance into the room. "What were you doing?" Sansa asked, stepping back from him as he righted himself.

"Apologies, my Lady. I couldn't hear you so I…I," he stammered, unable to form another word at the sight of her. Her eyes were pink and puffy and her nose as well. She clutched a handkerchief in her hand that he imagined was filled with her tears. Her long crimson hair was loose and fell about her shoulders like a silken cloak.

"Please, don't bring Brienne. She'll only make it worse with her mothering," Sansa said, closing the door with Podrick on the inside of the room.

"Yes, my Lady," were the only words his dry mouth could speak. He was alone in a room with a woman whom he adored from afar and she was in obvious distress. Comforting such a lady was totally out of the question. The most he could do was stand there as no more than a tool and wait for her to command him to do her bidding.

Sansa crossed the room and sniffled into her handkerchief quietly. He didn't move. He patiently awaited her to turn and order him from the room.

"Are those the only three words you know? 'Yes my Lady?'" she asked, speaking with her back to him.

"No, my Lady—I mean to say, I know many words; most of the usual ones. I simply don't know which ones to say at the moment."

"Why not? I saw you speaking with all manner of people in the courtyard. I've even seen you and Lady Brienne laughing at dinner in the great hall."

"You're different my Lady, because, well, you're the Lady of Winterfell."

Sansa still held her back to him until Podrick noticed the mirror on the dresser. He could see her reflection in it. Her eyes were open and she was speaking to his likeness in the glass. "Yes, Podrick, I am the Lady of Winterfell."

"Well of course you are." He swallowed hard, waiting for her to turn and order him out the door. He decided he'd save her the trouble. "Shall I go my Lady?"

"Go where, to the floor outside of my chamber."

"Yes my Lady."

Sansa's eyes met his again in the mirror and she looked down and at last turned to face him. "You're a loyal squire, aren't you? You served Tyrion Lannister before Lady Brienne, didn't you?"

"I did my Lady."

"What was that like?" she asked, walking to her bed and sitting down on the edge.

"Lord Tyrion was wonderful to me. I didn't squire much. I fetched things for him mostly. I…"

"You saved his life at the Blackwater. I remember," she interrupted. "You killed the man who was hired to kill Tyrion."

Podrick looked at the floor and then up at Sansa from beneath his brow. "I did. Lord Tyrion saved Kings Landing that night. He didn't deserve to die like that."

"Do you want to be a knight? Ser Podrick Payne?" she asked, lifting Podrick's nervousness by closing her question with a slight smile.

"Yes my Lady. I do. Lady Brienne has been training me for a long time now. Not only in fighting but in my heart. A knight requires a loyal and dignified heart."

"Loyal and dignified," she said, her voice softening. "The only knight I've ever known who fit that description is Brienne herself. I've had knights beat me, threaten me and tear the dress off my back. Do you believe they were true knights Ser Podrick?"

"No my Lady. I would never—I could never do any such thing as that." He was growing nervous again and questioning why she continued to engage him this way. On one hand, he was beginning to wish she'd have never opened the door. On the other, his dreams again crept into his mind, turning his thoughts to being the greatest knight he could be and bending his knee in love and fealty to her until his last day.

Sansa reached down next to her and lifted a scroll from the bed. She held it in her hand as if she were wielding a dagger and raised it into the air. She stood slowly, walked to the fireplace and threw it into the flames. With her back still turned to him she said, "Lady of Winterfell."

"Would you like me to go now my Lady?"

"Did you know I've been married twice, Ser Podrick?"

"Yes Lady Sansa."

"And yet," she said, turning and moving towards him. "I didn't love either of them. The first one married me because he was ordered to by his father. He refused to lay a hand on me unless I asked him to. The second one wanted my family home, and he used me like a play thing. He tortured me beyond my worst imagination—beyond comprehension, until you and Brienne saved me and took me to my—to Jon." She spoke slowly as if in a dream as she stepped closer to him. "You see, I've never had a man love me for me, Ser Podrick."

He was growing angrier at those who'd harmed her by the moment but compassion and sadness for all that she had suffered was overwhelming him. He wanted to take her in a loving embrace and hold her all night if that's what she needed. A solitary tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. He took several deep breaths, trying to hold in a sob. Afraid to speak for fear of that sob escaping, he simply nodded, hoping she hadn't seen the tear.

"You are a truer knight than any man in Westeros. You've been alone with me in my chamber for nearly an hour and you haven't moved from this spot." She moved closer until she was a breath away and wiped the tear from his cheek with her handkerchief. "What are you thinking Podrick? Quick, tell me and don't deliberate on telling me truth."

Involuntarily he dropped to his knee and placed his sword at her feet. "I want to serve you my lady but not as your knight. I don't think I could bear seeing you day after day and not be able to show you what you truly mean to me." His eyes stared at the floor as he spoke through the tears he'd held back since the first one fell.

"Look at me Ser Podrick, please," Sansa said, lifting his face gently by the chin until his eyes met hers. "You will be a knight. I will see to this if you'll promise to show me true love and loyalty for the rest of your days."

"Lady Sansa, if you knew how long I've shown you true love from afar, you'd know the conditions of your promise were met long ago."

"Well you've done an excellent job of keeping it hidden." She held out her hand and as he rose to his feet, she closed her eyes and kissed him gently on the cheek. It was as if a spark from a lightning strike pierced her lips. Her eyes widened, searching Podrick's for confirmation that he felt it as well. Her answer came when he gently slid his hands around her waist and pressed his lips onto hers, holding her there for several moments. It was as if neither of them could let go until she reached around and took his hand and led him to her bed.

"My Lady, I know you've been hurt. I only want to please you and show you my intentions are pure. Are you certain this is…" Sansa placed her index finger over his lips to quiet him and lay back on the bed.

"Then stop talking and please show me."


	5. Secrets and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I understand now. It was never who was strong enough to have you, it was who was worthy enough. I only pray that it is me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I upload the entire story to date or stop here and add one chapter a day until we're all caught up? Your feedback is welcome.

Jaime Lannister curled himself around Brienne as they lay in Lord Cerwyn's bed, but sleep did not come. His mind kept replaying his conversation with King Snow and he knew he'd never get a wink of sleep until he discussed it with Brienne. She had a way of reading him and helping him understand himself better than anyone. For all of his life, having been no more than Cersei's play thing, only to have her betray him and toss him away when he came back from his internments a damaged man, he was still finding himself. Brienne had become his beacon. She had used the candle within her soul to light his so they could find their way out of the darkness together.

"Brienne, are you awake?" Jaime whispered over her shoulder.

"It's about time you spoke. Of course I'm awake. Who could sleep with your constant sighs at their back?" she asked with a chuckle and turned beneath his embrace to face him.

"My meeting with King Snow," he paused. "First, allow me to thank you for speaking on my behalf in advance. I had no idea. You never said anything."

"Well, you hardly gave me a chance now did you," she said, sliding her right hand like a feather over his shoulder and down his arm.

"I didn't realize during my journey to Winterfell exactly how intimidating it would be, standing there alone in a room with the King in the North. I have to admit up close, he's rather intense and emits an energy that defies logic." Jaime winced and turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. A soft glow from the waning fire illuminated his striking profile as he lay.

"Go on," Brienne encouraged him, allowing him to ramble. She tucked her arm beneath her head, rising up a bit to watch his face.

"First, he thanked me for keeping my vow—he likes that and respects those who keep their word. I believe he values that above anything else. However, he swiftly reminded me of what I'd done to Brandon, to which I immediately took responsibility and admitted what I'd done, to which he replied he could have my head immediately for, but said you'd spoken for me and relayed to him my vow to find and save Sansa and Arya, and my gifts to you. He seemed very interested in the sword. He stressed the importance of it in the fight against the dead."

"I did. I told him everything, even the parts where you saved me." She laid her hand on his chest over his heart. She could feel it racing as he went on and gently stroked his chest to calm him.

"Of course we spoke of Cersei's betrayal and Euron's voyage to bring the Golden Company. I told him everything. I left nothing out, Brienne. I've never felt clearer than I did telling him everything. It felt right. I felt right...and…free." He turned his face back to her. "That was when he said, 'You once swore to find and protect my sisters. I'm asking you now, will you keep that vow and take them to the Vale. Do you swear to protect them with your life if necessary?'"

"What did you feel when he asked you that?"

"I suppose the first answer would be, honored. I was speechless for a moment but I asked him; wouldn't I better serve you here assisting with your armies but he agreed they did not all feel the same gratitude as he did, and he feared resistance. Resistance was the last thing he needed. Immediately I knew he was right. It was the first time I was asked to do something, not ordered to do it and for the right reasons."

"And what was the second thing?"

Jaime rose up and climbed atop Brienne, leaning over her on one elbow and met her eyes as he spoke, "Knowing I'd be with you, and no matter what happened, we'd either be together until the end or until the beginning."

Brienne wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down against her, kissing him and welcoming him to love her once more. "We'll be leaving this bed in a few hours and we're likely not to have another until we reach The Twins. Give me something to keep me warm until we get there."

"Do you remember when I told you I was strong enough when the others who'd tried, weren't?"

"Yes. I believe my answer was that I wasn't interested." She smiled.

"I understand now. It was never who was strong enough to have you, it was who was worthy enough. I only pray that it is me."

Podrick Payne lay wide awake. He glanced down at himself, to find the pale, languorous arm of Sansa Stark, draped across his chest as she slept silently. He smiled and folded his arms behind his head allowing it to be so. He drank it in for a few minutes until he allowed himself the grief of knowing this was not the bud of a love affair. Even he wasn't foolish enough to believe this magnificent lady needed more than someone to make her pain go away, if even for one night.

He stirred to move. She clung to him, digging her fingertips and then her nails into the soft flesh of his side below his arm. He cringed at the slight pain and then tried turning away from her a bit in hopes she'd think him just rolling in his sleep. Instead, she held him tighter. Just as he was about to give up in futility and wait until she let go, she spoke.

"Where are you going?" she said soft and low.

"I was leaving for my post my Lady. I did not think you'd want anyone to find us like this in the morning."

"I don't care what anyone thinks of me anymore. Don't leave me yet." She suddenly rose up and pulled her robe from the foot of the bed. "Turn away a moment Ser Podrick."

Podrick turned onto his side as she pulled the chamber pot from beneath the bed, relieving herself. He even covered his ears so as not to embarrass her. He did hear her giggle though as she removed her robe and climbed back into the bed.

"Did you really cover your ears?" She smiled, leaning over his shoulder and pulling him to face her.

"Well, I didn't want to violate my Lady's privacy," he said with a tremble in his voice.

"We've made love every way a man and a woman can tonight, Podrick. I don't think we've anything left to hide—least of all making water." She was still smiling as she slid next to him, pressing her naked body against him again. "Do you know that you were my first real lover?"

Podrick swallowed hard. "Well, I'm thankful my Lady chose me."

"You couldn't possibly be more thankful than I am. Now I understand what all the fuss is about. I had no idea it could be like this," she said, stretching and pulling him closer until her head rested on his chest. "You'll get your knighthood when we reach the Vale and much more I imagine, if it's what you want."

Podrick's face twisted into somewhere between a pout and a wince. "But my Lady…"

"Please, Pod, call me Sansa," she whispered, placing soft kisses on his chest.

"Sansa, I think you've misunderstood me. I didn't make love to you to get my knighthood. I did it because I love you. I won't be someone's plaything." His body stiffened under her touch and he turned his face to the fire.

Sansa sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest and stared at him. "You think I used you?"

He didn't answer nor turn back to her. He lay with his arms now folded at his chest, still staring off. She'd obviously offended him and struggled to find the right words. She reached out and laid her hand gently on his folded arm. "Podrick, we barely know each other. How can you love someone you don't even know? There are parts of me you don't ever want to see."

"I saw things. I saw things that made my heart break. Even in the low light of the fire I saw." His face snapped back to hers as he spoke. "I tried not to see them but I did and all I wanted to do was take it all away. I'd still take it all away if I had the power to."

Sansa coiled up, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them until she was like a porcelain ball. "I told you…"

Podrick lept towards her on the bed on his knees and wrapped his arms around her. "I don't care about the scars, Sansa. I mean yes, I care because of everything you suffered but I want to love you and show you every day what real love is and can be. You can tell me anything and I'll swear for the rest of my days, nothing will ever make me turn away. I just don't want to be in your bed. I want to be in your heart…someday."

"I can't promise anything. I can't tell you that will ever happen."

"I have an idea. Tell me something; anything at all. Something you'd never tell anyone and that can be the first step to trusting me." Podrick still knelt, holding her in his arms and he could feel her body begin to relax against him. Slowly, she leaned into him until they were once again lying together with her head pressed against his chest. He stroked her hair for several minutes until she finally spoke.

"Remember when you came into the room tonight and I was crying?"

"Of course."

"You didn't ask me why I was crying."

"No. I didn't feel it was my place. I only wanted to make sure you were alright."

"That scroll, the one I tossed into the fire. It was from Jon."

"Whatever it was, I'm sorry it upset you so," Podrick said, placing a light kiss atop her head.

"He told me he wanted to tell me face to face but there was no time. He said with the chance that he wouldn't survive this battle, he needed me to know, in case I did survive."

"It must have been terribly important if he took the time to write it down for you."

"He isn't my brother." Podrick's eyes widened, awaiting the rest. "He said, my father brought him home from Dorne as a baby. He was actually my Aunt Lyanna's child."

"Your Aunt Lyanna who died at the hands of Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"Rhaegar did not kill my Aunt. He loved her and he married her before Jon was born. Jon's real name is Aegon and he is the rightful King of Westeros."

Podrick's heart began to race. He was terrified of having this information yet he was elated to know that Jon was in fact the one true king. He forced himself to slow his breath and asked, "Why did you throw the scroll into the fire?"

"He asked me to please record all of this when we reach the Vale, since most likely by the time we do, the dead will have reached Winterfell. If the living win, he wants the record to be true. Also, should we win and he is killed, I'll be the Lady of Winterfell and they will need me to rebuild the North."

"You are Winterfell, Sansa. There's no one else who can or should do this."

"My brother, whom I love, is not my brother but my cousin and he's a Targaryen, Podrick. My father kept this hidden from all of us, even our mother for Jon's whole life." She began to cry low, soft tears.

"Your father did what he felt was best for Jon and for all of you. You feel betrayed, I understand but you know your father did what had to be done. Had anyone known Jon was a Targaryen and the rightful heir at that, you'd not have even had him as a half-brother or anything else, had King Robert gotten his hands on him. So what he's your cousin, he's still your blood."

Sansa turned her face up to Podrick's. "I burned it because I didn't want anyone else to know. I still need to tell Arya. She won't cry. She's not like me. She'll probably say something witty and sensible."

"Your bastard brother is now the legitimate King. I'd say he's done well for himself," Podrick looked down at her and said with a grin. "How's that for witty and sensible?"

Sansa reached up and cupped Podrick's cheek in her hand. "She's on a level of her own Pod, but that wasn't too bad." She scooted up and kissed him and then curled in close to him. "Let's get some sleep. We'll take things one day at a time. That's all we have."


	6. Hearts and Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all about hearts and swords. Swords and hearts. What does it all mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh I believe you've shown me exactly what you could do to me already. Truth be told, you were right. You were getting the better of me on that bridge. Perhaps that was my motivation all along." He reached over and pulled her horse by the bridle, galloping ahead into a thicket of snow covered brush, and dismounted. "Get down here!" he ordered her.

Before first light, Podrick Payne was again in his armor and cloak, and posted outside of Lady Sansa's chamber. He was beginning to understand the weight of wearing the armor and the reasons why Knights were well muscled and strong. How could one not be, when carrying half if not more than your own body weight on the outside of your body? If Sansa did follow through on her promise, he'd have to get used to not only the weight but the bulk of being encumbered by it daily. The assurance of the physical improvements made the adjustment worth it. He thought to himself, if it would help him grow a few more inches, he'd suffer wearing it to bed as well.

"Good morning, Pod," Brienne said as she entered the hallway from her chamber. "Nothing of note to report?"

"No my Lady. Nothing of note," Pod answered, turning to look at Sansa's door and grinning as he turned back.

"Good. Ser Jaime will be joining us in a moment. Is Lady Sansa awake yet?"

"Yes my Lady. She said she'll be ready very soon."

"Did Arya come to see her sister last night?" Brienne inquired.

"No my Lady; no one did. Shall I go and find her?" Podrick asked.

The moment Podrick finished his sentence; Sansa emerged from her chamber, covered warmly from head to toe. "Good morning Lady Brienne, Podrick," she nodded and gave them a slight smile.

"Yes Pod. Please do. Find her and ask her to wait in the courtyard. Please call all of our banners to the ready as well. We'd like to be on our way before first light and it will be here before we know it."

"You're searching for my sister, aren't you?" Sansa asked.

"Yes my Lady," Brienne answered.

Sansa seemed unconcerned and placed the satchel from her horse over her shoulder. "You both know Arya. She's quite capable of taking care of herself," Sansa said as she turned and walked toward the narrow stone stairway and down into the main hall of the castle.

Jaime emerged from his room and closed the door behind him. "Don't worry, everything is as we found it, mostly," he said, walking up to Brienne. He placed his satchel over his head and strapped it across his chest.

"Mostly?" Brienne asked, lowering a brow.

"I took the liberty of saving a little remembrance," he whispered, patting his satchel and giving her a devilish grin before kissing her on the cheek. She continued staring at him with a skeptical eye. "Why are you looking at me that way? It will keep me warm on our travels." He smiled and then said, "Oh stop worrying," and waived Brienne ahead of him to the stairs.

As everyone gathered in the courtyard and the caravan began to fall in line to leave, Brienne heard Podrick calling out to her and then saw him, racing towards her on his horse. "Jaime, finish here, will you? Something appears to be wrong."

"What is it, Pod?" she asked, galloping towards him and pulling her horse to a quick stop.

"Lady Arya. She's gone. Hours ago, a rider came. She met him at the gate. She ordered the guards to let her go, that she'd been expecting this man and to stand down."

"And no one thought to intercede in this!" The veins in Brienne's neck were raised beneath her skin and her face burned red.

"She's a Lady, my Lady. She ordered them not to stop her and to open the gates."

"No one tells my sister what she can and cannot do anymore, Lady Brienne," Sansa said, approaching them. "She's almost finished her list. She's going to Kings Landing."

"Kings Landing? You knew about this the entire time and you said nothing?" Brienne asked; her eyes widened with disbelief.

"Sandor Clegane; the Hound. They each have their own reasons for going so, knowing each other as well as they do, he rode in during the night and yes, they're gone."

"I'll need to find the Maester and get a raven to your brother Jon informing him of what Arya's done, and also of the Hound's hand in it…"

Sansa interrupted, "Brienne I can assure you, this was all Arya's doing. Jon has enough to handle right now without adding this worry to the rest. Please, may we just go now?" Sansa's voice was stern and clear. She left Brienne no choice. Regardless of who was leading them to the Vale, Sansa Stark was the sister of the King and her word was to be obeyed above any other.

Brienne took a deep breath and nodded, submitting to Sansa's order, even though she believed Arya and even the Hound, were in grave danger on the Kingsroad alone. She clucked her tongue at her horse and came about, then led Sansa to the front of the line. Jaime was speaking with several infantry men, giving them orders for the back of the caravan. They nodded and galloped past Brienne as she met him near the gate.

"What was the emergency?" Jaime asked.

"Arya has apparently had her own agenda since we left Winterfell. She's gone. She left some hours ago and rode off into the night with the Hound."

"What on Earth was she thinking?" Jaime asked with a puzzled and angry expression.

"She apparently has plans of her own and…" Brienne stopped herself from finishing her thought. The last thing she wanted was to tell Jaime of Arya's plan or her list. At that moment, she knew Arya wouldn't stop until she put an end to Cersei, as she had so many others. She reasoned it within her mind that telling Jaime what Arya set off to do would only cause him to be conflicted. Even though he'd left Cersei and turned his back on her for good, Brienne didn't want to plant a seed of doubt in his mind that might interfere with their mission. Her own feelings were set aside or at least that's what she told herself, as she followed Jaime through the gates.

"And?" Jaime asked, waiting for Brienne to finish her thought.

"They're gone."

Brienne rode at Jaime's side for hours. They shared childhood stories and tales of everything from their first horse to their first sword. He told her she was never lovelier than she was right then, with her cream colored face splashed with the pink of the chill and framed in fur. They laughed and exchanged knowing glances between them. The knowing was like a seed germinating in the still hard ground, yet dampened by the winter's melting snow. Every mile they travelled was like the new shoot of a root, reaching out into the dark earth and holding on for dear life, until its firm green stem at last pushed through to the sunlight.

"It appears Podrick and Lady Sansa, are getting on quite well," Jaime remarked, looking back over his shoulder at them riding much the same as he and Brienne.

"They're young; about the same age I'd wager. They're good company for one another. I couldn't imagine how dreaded a journey this would be without you to talk to," Brienne said, glancing back and hearing Sansa laughing. Suddenly, she frowned and lowered her brow, turning back to Jaime. "You don't think anything happened, do you?"

"Happened as in, they struck up a friendship or do you mean happened?" Jaime pumped his eyebrows at her and then a smirk covered his face. "Do you think the gentle little lamb that is Podrick Payne, gave Lady Sansa something to smile about last night?"

"I'd never think something like that of Lady Sansa," she whispered, aghast.

"Of course, there is that story which was relayed to me about Podrick being a legend with the ladies of one of Baelish's brothels." Jaime grinned and winked. "And I do mean sexually. Certainly not for entertaining them on the flute while he waited for my brother," he whispered then chuckled.

"The what legend? Where did you hear such a thing?" Brienne's mouth hung open and her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Honestly! When I gave him to you and saw you off to find Sansa, I'll admit I had my reservations," he said over a laugh.

"Podrick Payne?" she screeched at him through her teeth, then glanced back to make sure they hadn't heard her. "Sometimes I honestly don't know what to make of you." Brienne pulled her hood forward, shadowing her disgusted expression.

Jaime laughed. "I do believe it was Bronn who told me." He laughed again. "Oh come on, Brienne. I'm having some fun with you is all. I do love your innocence though. It is by far your most refreshing attribute."

"Most refreshing you say," she sniped, pulling her horse closer to his as their conversation was becoming less than discreet. "Are you quite sure about that?" Her armor covered calf, brushed against his.

"Yes, the most refreshing. You do, however, possess other attributes but I don't think I'd use the term refreshing to describe them." He purred the words to her with that grin again, that sent ripples of pleasure throughout her body. "Shall I explain them?" He laughed.

"Absolutely," she shouted. "Not!"

Jaime laughed a hearty laugh now. As much as he enjoyed her innocence and found the contrast that was Brienne, her most intriguing trait, her inexperience with love, and the literal nature in which she saw the world, drove him mad for her.

"Has anyone ever told you, you do not play fair?" Brienne asked him sarcastically but with a devious grin of her own.

"If they did my darling, I didn't care. I neither cared what was fair or what wasn't. I just like to win. Winning feels so much better than losing. I will reveal all of myself only to you my love, along with my deepest secrets but I'll never play fair with you." He smiled wide at her and cocked his head, toying with her.

Brienne was aghast and bumped into him again, harder this time and threw him a scowl, which sent him again into laughter. "You see? You make it too easy for me to rile you up! You're far too much fun to tease for me to ever stop."

Brienne tried her best to hold in a laugh of her own to no avail. Her laugh was infectious and loud. Her mouth opened so wide, her head fell back. Jaime appeared completely spellbound by it. He'd never heard her laugh with so much vigor and joy animate.

Brienne turned and looked back at Sansa and Podrick who were now silent and staring at her, both appearing to be withholding howling laughter of their own. She wheeled her head back around and covered her mouth, remembering herself and then looked over at Jaime. "Jaime, what do you mean when you call me 'my love'?"

"Oh that I'll survive all of this innocent ignorance of yours someday, and cut through this naive nonsense until I reach the woman inside of you." He breathed a hard sigh of frosty exasperation filled breath. "If a man calls you his love, he means you are his love."

"You're my love too." The words shot from her lips like a catapult.

"All things considered, Brienne, I'll be fair just this once. You've been my love for quite a long time. So, since we've established our attachment quite clearly, shall we talk about something else?"

"We're losing light by the minute. I suppose we should discuss making camp."

Jaime slowed down his horse until Podrick was within ear shot. "Podrick, we'll make camp here for tonight. Pass the word along," Jaime said, pulling his horse around and then back again to Brienne's side.

"It's wonderful how you've organized everything, Jaime. All these men know their duties and within the hour, tents will be raised, fires will be burning and food will be cooking."

"One would think I've led armies before, wouldn't they?" he asked with a smirk.

"One of these days Jaime Lannister, I'll…"

"Oh I believe you've shown me exactly what you could do to me already. Truth be told, you were right. You were getting the better of me on that bridge. Perhaps that was my motivation all along." He reached over and pulled her horse by the bridle, galloping ahead into a thicket of snow covered brush, and dismounted. "Get down here!" he ordered her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, throwing her leg over the saddle and sliding with a soft thump to the snow below.

"I said, perhaps not allowing you to get the better of me with a sword was my motivation for loving you. Yes, my hands were tied but you were right. You'd have beaten me, and it wasn't your skill with the sword, that's for certain. It was the fight in you. It came from a place inside of you I'd never seen in anyone, woman or man. All I know is the last thing I want is to ever face you with a sword in your hand again." He glanced around a bit, and finding no one, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hard, almost knocking her off her feet.

When their lips finally parted, Brienne took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "You won't have to worry about that ever again. But if there was ever a next time, you'd win."

He searched her eyes for an answer as to why she'd concede so easily to him besting her. When he couldn't see it, he asked, "Why would you give up so easily and say that?"

"I believe your skill with a sword in your left hand, will fall a distant second to what's in your heart now. Besides, I'd take my own life before I could take yours."

"How did we ever allow ourselves to sink into this conversation? Hearts, swords, I just want all of this behind us so we can have a life together. I want this war over and our swords laid down for good."

She reached out and took his face in her gloved hands. "We will win. We are the living. We are the ones with a future to live for. Always remember, hearts and spirits win battles Jaime, not swords."


	7. The Barrowlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets very boring and lonely in the cold dark night. Having a knight of your own can definitely keep boredom at bay...or is it BAE? Oh and a continuation of the sword talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Well, we both know that isn't going to happen. I told you, it's yours forever." He looked over at her. His eyes were stern yet appeared desperate at the same time. "The truth, however," he said, pausing to reposition himself on the fur blanket beside her, and laid his head in her lap, looking up at her. "The truth is always far more interesting than any story I could make up." He closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep.

At last the full moon shown the reflection of its silver face upon the Earth, and there was ample light for the soldiers to finish setting up camp for the night. As Brienne had noted, the fires were burning and the fragrant aroma of pig and stag hung in the smoky night air. It had stopped snowing at last and fur and fire had sufficiently provided enough relief to dissipate the miles of icy discomfort.

The plains of the Barrowlands were vast and gave them ample sight from horizon to horizon, even in the moonlight. Jaime established a schedule of guards and sent scouts a mile out in every direction. He was a master at his work. Brienne focused her energy at Jaime's request, on keeping account of their supplies and the overall health of their army. By the grace of the Gods, so far everyone was healthy and the supplies were holding up well. There was certainly no lack of water, and soldiers are skilled hunters. At every camp, they set rabbit snares. By morning, their catch was collected and packed in snow for the next camp.

"No wonder the Lannister armies were always the best," Podrick said to Jaime, as they finished setting up our tents for the night. Being at the front of the caravan was a blessing. They were still a part of the group yet far enough at the edge of camp to enjoy a bit of solitude.

Podrick built a fire just beyond the opening to Sansa's tent. Enough heat to warm her yet far enough away to keep her safe from scattering embers. He even placed a spit of pork on the fire for them while she made up her bed of furs inside and boiled water in a steel pitcher for tea.

Brienne watched him with pride as she built a fire of her own. She and Jaime set up separate tents. Whether or not they had intentions of sharing one, the appearance of separation was important to them both. They had for four days and nights, save a stolen kiss or glance, not strayed from their duties. Their duty to their King was always utmost in their minds. There would be plenty of time after the war for them to live free and explore each other under their own rules—they hoped. For now, those stolen kisses, wrought with passion and promise were pushing them on and getting them through, but their resolve was wearing thin on this moonlight night.

"Jaime, come sit by the fire and eat with me," Brienne said, tossing an enormous bear fur across the snow near their fire and checking the plump, now golden brown rabbit that roasted above it. "It's almost done. Sit," she said, dropping to her knees and pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders.

"Beautiful night," Jaime commented as he sat down next to her. "One wouldn't even imagine we're running for our lives." Jaime leaned forward and lifted the stick from the spit carefully, and picked off a piece of moist rabbit to test it.

"Running? We aren't running. We're following our King's orders and delivering his sisters—sister, to safety."

"Tell me the truth. Do you think King Snow chose me for this…expedition, because of my hand?" Jaime never looked at her. He gazed intently at the fire and placed the rabbit back on the spit.

"Jaime, no. Whether he chose you to stay and defend the North or sent you to deliver Lady Sansa, either way I believe he knew at some point you'd be forced to draw your sword. Right hand, left hand it doesn't matter. No one can deny your skills either in battle or…" She paused and put her hand on his shoulder. "Look around you. These men are yours to command. You have always been and will always be far more than just a sword. But if that time comes, King Snow knows you are more than capable of wielding it."

Brienne reached into her satchel and produced her whetstone. She unsheathed Oathkeeper and positioned herself to sharpen the blade. "Do you know that this sword is the most wonderful gift I've ever received? Well, aside from my dark sapphire armor that is."

"You don't say?" Jaime smiled, now lying on his side enjoying his rabbit thoroughly. "Bite?" he asked her, holding a piece of meat up to her mouth, which she gladly nipped from his fingers.

"How on Earth did the smith get the steel that color?" she asked, continuing to slide the stone down her blade.

"I haven't the slightest idea. When I went to his shop, I noticed a sheet of deep blue steel and asked him if he could fashion armor from it. Of course being a shrewd businessman, he explained that yes, he could do it for the right price."

"Jaime, I hope this didn't cost you a fortune. I'd be mortified if…"

"Oh hush up woman. When a man is wooing a woman, money is no object. Of course at the time, being a Lannister made buying anything of no concern. However, I told the man to name his price and happily handed him what he asked for."

"I still can't believe how perfectly it fits and the leather lining is as soft as the white of a doe's tail."

"Fitting it wasn't so difficult." He looked up at her and chewed his rabbit slowly with a devilish grin. "I wonder sometimes if you exposed yourself to me, to remove any doubt you think I might have had as to your sex, or if you were modeling for that armor." He laughed and ducked as she swatted at him.

"It's obvious, regardless of whatever my motivation was that night in that bath, giving me these gifts was the single most generous thing anyone ever did for me."

"I remember when it was delivered and the smith assembled it on the mannequin, I had a laugh under my breath. I thought, 'no flowers and jewels for my Lady. She's worthy of gold and steel.'" He offered her another piece of rabbit but this time, before he pulled his hand away, she took hold of his wrist and pulled his fingers between her lips. She held them on her tongue for a moment, before drawing them slowly out of her mouth. "More, my Lady?" he asked softly. His lips parted in pleasant surprise and his playful glances were overtaken by an expression of tempted arousal.

"Yes please," she answered; her words flowed with a heavy sigh.

Again, he tore away a hearty strip of meat, glazed in grease, and held it out to her but this time, just above his own lips. She laid down her sword and leaned over him to take it from between his fingers with her lips parted. Just as he was about to slide it into her waiting mouth, he pulled back and stuffed it into his own. Her frown was pitiful but he couldn't help but laugh. Seeing her disappointment, he quickly grabbed another piece and slowly placed it between her lips. Again, she pulled his fingers into her mouth, more deeply this time and held them longer. Her tongue slowly encircled them as she drew them in and out. Their eyes were locked in a visual embrace that was so erotic, Jaime tilted his head and squinted his eyes in pleasure. His arousal had triggered an almost immediate erection, which caused him discomfort in the position he was sitting in. As if Brienne instinctively knew, she drew his fingers slowly from her mouth at last.

"Bloody hell woman," he groaned, adjusting himself. "Are you finished with that damn sword because I mean to have a word with you in my tent." As if there weren't five hundred soldiers only twenty yards away, he reached out and grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her lips hard down onto his and held them there, licking any remaining remnants of the flavor of roasted rabbit from her mouth.

When he at last released her, she picked up her sword again and said, "We have time my love. We have time."

"No, we most certainly do not." He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and glanced in every direction before pulling her into the tent and drawing her down roughly on top of him. He'd snatched her so quickly that she was still clutching Oathkeeper in her hand as he pulled her down and it fell next to them on the blanket.

"Jaime, we can't," she protested, as he tore at the laces on her tunic, struggling with one hand. He was so frustrated he cried out. "Shhh, my love. Let me," she said, sitting up and straddling him, pulling the tunic up and over her head.

The second her pale skin was exposed to him in the muted light, he pulled her down and his open mouth covered her neck in deep suckling kisses that raised the skin from her bones. Her hands worked powerfully beneath her as she slid back on to his thighs, tearing at his belt to release him from his trousers. Pain shot through her body as Jaime's teeth nipped and sank into her breasts, as he drew them deeply into his mouth. She gasped and took his erection into her hand and squeezed, pulling and stroking him roughly as her body writhed with pleasure.

"Kiss me," he growled up at her, snatching her by the back of her neck and pulling her down until their mouths crashed into each other. He forced his tongue deeply inside as their mouths pushed and pulled brutally, as if they were consuming each other's soul.

Until this night, their lovemaking had never been less than passionate and fiery but the enflamed level at which they attacked each other on this night was lustful and violent. This was reminiscent of a battle between two swords, hammering away at each other to the death.

Brienne, half naked and sore from Jaime's ferocity, pulled away from him and sat back. His chest rose and fell as heavy breaths blew from him as he tried to sit up and capture his prey again. Brienne held him down and slapped his hand away as she stared down at this ravenous lion, who she feared would leave nothing of her but bones by morning.

Having tempted him so intently as he fed her, she knelt between his legs and took him into her mouth, finishing what she started. Although, having never done anything so bold and having never initiated sex in such a way, she was overcome with the power it gave her. He was helpless beneath her and giving himself over to her as if every ounce of strength in his body now belonged solely to her. As she felt her power expand, she realized this was what he wanted. This was why he dragged her into this tent. This was why he encouraged her to let herself go.

When the battle ended, she crawled up into his arms and he wrapped her in a blanket of fur and held her close. She glanced over and saw her sword. The hilt was peeking out from beneath the fur. After a while of lying in silence, she reached over and touched it.

"You know, Oathkeeper is Valyrian steel. King Snow was adamant that I hold tight to it when facing the dead or the Wight Walkers. He told me his sword, Longclaw is Valyrian as well and it shattered the Wight Walkers when he struck them," Brienne said softly.

"Well then I'd say it's a good thing I gave it to you." Jaime said, kissing her softly on her head.

"The King said Jeor Mormont, who was his first Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, gave him Longclaw for saving his life. He said Lord Mormont even had the bear on the pommel replaced with a wolf. I can't imagine handing over my family's sword to someone else. King Snow truly must have risked his life for such a prize."

"Would you have preferred I had the Lannister Lion replaced by a sun with the moon and stars?" Jaime asked, lifting her face by the chin and showing her a half-smile.

"I—I was only telling you the story as King Snow relayed it to me. I meant nothing by it. I mean to say…"

"To be honest, I considered having the pommel changed," Jaime said, picking up Oathkeeper and staring intently at the hilt. "Can you guess why I didn't do it?"

"I couldn't even begin to know why. Perhaps because the craftsmanship is so beautiful, or you thought someday, it might find its way back into your possession." Brienne sat up and leaned back on her hands, stretching out her long lean legs in front of her.

"Well, we both know that isn't going to happen. I told you, it's yours forever." He looked over at her. His eyes were stern yet appeared desperate at the same time. "The truth, however," he said, pausing to reposition himself on the fur blanket beside her, and laid his head in her lap, looking up at her. "The truth is always far more interesting than any story I could make up." He closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep.

"Jaime? Jaime Lannister you wake up this instant and tell me the rest right now," Brienne ordered, sitting upright and shaking him by the shoulder.

"Who said there was more to it? I certainly didn't," he laughed. "I'm tired, Brie. I need my rest."

"You're not going to sleep until you tell me," she said, slipping from beneath him and his head hit the fur with a soft thump.

He rolled onto his stomach and looked over at her, now sitting a foot away. She was holding Oathkeeper again; studying the pommel in the dim light. He pulled himself back into a seated position and scooted to her side. "Here," he said, reaching for the sword. He slid his hand slowly over the hilt, outlining the golden engraved craftsmanship with his fingers. "The reason I didn't have the pommel replaced was because I wanted you to think of me every time you looked at it. Every time you wielded it, I wanted to be with you," he paused, placing her hand on the hilt beneath his. "Even if you were standing beside a slow moving stream, enjoying a blissfully quiet moment, and you rested your hand here, you would be reminded of me."


	8. The White Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Funny thing happened on the way to The Vale...or rather, another funny thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Madam, we only seek shelter for the night. We have our own food and ale. May we please enter and come in from the cold?" Brienne asked, as she crept towards the woman with her hand clenched on the hilt of Oathkeeper. "Please madam. You don't need to fear us."

Before the dawn, Podrick approached Jaime's tent and called for him to wake. A rider had come in the night from Winterfell. A single man on horseback could make the journey in three times the speed of a caravan of horses and wagons. Jaime shook himself awake and prodded Brienne gently on the shoulder to wake as well.

"Brienne, there's a rider from Winterfell," he whispered, springing to his feet and dressing as fast as he could. He was still fastening his golden hand when he stepped out into the darkness.

"My Lord," the man said, bowing to Jaime. He held a torch in one hand and a scroll in the other. "I bring a message from the King in the North." Jaime snatched the scroll from the man's hand and fumbled to open it beneath the torchlight.

_Ser Jaime,  
We've received word from our allies in Kings Landing that Queen Cersei has called upon her army in Riverrun to march the River Road to the Kingsroad and make camp at the crossing. They're going to form a blockade in some misguided attempt to protect Kings Landing from the North. This maneuver will also block the entrance to the Vale. Go to White Harbor. I've already dispatched a ship to meet you there to carry you to Old Anchor. Take fifty men and send the rest back to Winterfell. Lord Robyn will have more than enough men to hold the Eyrie and the Bloody Gate. The Queen's army won't attack the Vale and if the dead make it that far south, their forces will add to the Knights of the Vale to fight them. If the dead reach them, you'll know we have lost. Your last hope will be to take that ship from Old Anchor and sail for Dragonstone. Give Sansa my love and may the Gods protect you all._

_King Aegon_

Jaime's hand trembled a bit and he clutched the scroll tightly in his fist. "Podrick, my horse."

"Jaime, what is it?" Brienne asked, emerging from the tent. Jaime handed her the scroll and pulled her aside.

He watched her eyes scan the letter and waited for her to speak. "White Harbor it is then." She wasn't shaken or thrown off at all by what she'd read. "We knew this wasn't going to be easy, but our King has saved us all from massacre."

"Cersei got to my army before I did. I suppose I can stop worrying about swaying them to our cause now." Jaime paced, rubbing his brow. "The worst of this, is knowing they have no idea what's coming for them."

"There's nothing we can do to warn them now. All we can do is pray," Brienne said softly, taking Jaime's hand from his brow and holding it tightly. "I'll inform Lady Sansa and help Pod break down the camp and pack the horses. You go and give the King's orders to the men and gather fifty of the finest. I'll plot our course to White Harbor."

Jaime pressed a kiss into her knuckles and turned on his heels to go. He stopped, looked back at Brienne and said, "Thank you," with a nod.

Jaime sat atop his horse and watched as the cloud masked sun rose, and four hundred and fifty men turned north. A lump swelled in his throat and he swallowed, unable to dislodge it. Brienne galloped to his side and asked, "Shall we go?" He nodded and nosed his horse southeast, leading them to White Harbor.

With fewer men and no wagons to slow them down, he took comfort in knowing they'd make better time. They'd fashioned sleighs to carry their supplies and the horses pulled them with ease through the snowy plains. With so many farms now abandoned by families heading south in search of warmth and food, they'd been fortunate to find shelter on many of the cold nights as they traveled.

One such night they spent at an inn near the White Knife River. They were surprised to find the tavern owner's widow still hunkered down with her young grandson, who spent most of his time hidden in a loft. His only companion, a pet rat he called King Whiskers.

When Jaime pushed open the door to the inn, he called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?" No answer came, until Brienne called out the same.

A voice came from beneath a corner table that asked, "What's your business here? We've no money and barely a drop of ale."

"Madam, we only seek shelter for the night. We have our own food and ale. May we please enter and come in from the cold?" Brienne asked, as she crept towards the woman with her hand clenched on the hilt of Oathkeeper. "Please madam. You don't need to fear us."

The woman rose slowly and peeked over the heavy oak table top at Brienne. "You're a woman. From the floor, I couldna tell. Yer wearin' armor."

"Yes madam. Most of us are. However, we wear it for our protection, not to seek battle. May we please come in and warm ourselves."

Sansa entered the inn with Podrick, and stood next to Brienne. "Madam, I am a northerner like yourself. My name is…"

The woman rose to a stand. She was hunched at the shoulders and her weathered eyes were pinched, straining to see in the shadows of candlelight. "Lady Caitlyn? Is that you? No.." she paused. "Lady Stark's been gone many a year. My eyes are playing tricks on me again." Not only was she examining Sansa but she eyed the golden hilt of Oathkeeper as well.

Sansa lowered her head for a moment and then looked to Brienne for direction to answer. Brienne spoke, "This is Lady Sansa Stark, madam. She is the Lady of Winterfell now. We don't expect free service. We can pay."

Jaime stood back by the door, motioning to Podrick to come closer. "Pod," he whispered, "Have the men shelter in the stables and set up camp. Send our best hunters southeast. I saw a heard of deer in the distance about a mile back. Tell them to take as many as they can carry. If there's one blessing in this damned snow, it's the preservation of our meat supply." Podrick nodded and went on his way.

"Who's he?" the woman said, pointing at Jaime.

"He's a knight madam. He's helping us reach White Harbor. We're meeting a ship there," Brienne said, now stepping closer to the woman.

"Lady Stark's daughter is always welcome in my home and as such, so's her companions. I'll get a pot a rabbit stew on fer ye. Robert!" she shouted up at the loft. "Come down here and help me skin these rabbits." She swept a matted wad of gray hair away from her face and straightened her soiled skirts. "We have guests."

"May I assist you madam?" Brienne asked, waving Sansa to sit.

"That's Robert's job. I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch yer name," the woman answered, looking up at Brienne.

"I'm Brienne of Tarth."

"Robert and I can make the stew but yer welcome to knead the bread. You've strong hands I imagine, with that big sword and all."

Jaime motioned to Brienne to come to him and she said, "I'll be right there madam." The old woman nodded and went to the kitchen with Robert on her heals.

"I've ordered Podrick to get the men settled for the night and send out a hunting party. I don't imagine this woman or the boy do much hunting. They'll starve soon if we don't repay their hospitality with meat."

"We must be very close to White Harbor. There are mermen banners and carvings everywhere in this place," Brienne said, glancing about the dining room.

"Yes, I've noticed. So you're going to knead bread?"

"And converse with Mrs. Flint—distant cousin of the Flint's of Widows Watch. I better get moving if we're to have enough bread for everyone." Brienne turned and headed for the kitchen when Sansa asked, "May I help?"

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Brienne answered.

"But I want to. I know less about cooking than I do about archery but if I don't find an occupation immediately I'll go mad."

Brienne smiled with understanding and nodded. "I don't know much about cooking wither unless it's over an open campfire but I'm sure kneading bread doesn't require a steward link from the Citadel."

They entered the kitchen together and were swiftly put to work mixing and kneading the dough. There were mounds of it but soon, the room was filled with aromas so rich their stomachs retched with hunger pangs and they yawned, one right after the other. As Brienne had stated to Jaime, the conversation started quickly and just kept going. As a little girl on Tarth, she recalled the cooks working in the kitchen at Evanfall Hall, and the ladies working, laughing and chattering away all day long.

"I hope this will be enough for your people. Robert and I, bein' alone and all, we appreciate the company and the meat. Now that the winter's come, that meat will keep in the larder until the spring, whenever that might be."

"Have you lived here long?" Brienne asked, using a long wooden paddle to remove the freshly baked bread from the large stone oven that was built into the back wall of the inn.

"Ha, this inn has been in my family since the days of King Jon Stark. For hundreds a years this inn was the only stop before the White Knife poured inta the Bite. It's been burned to the ground, more than once, and there's ghosts here too ye know," she said her voice fading into a whisper so as not to frighten the nearly mute boy, now stirring the stew in a cauldron the width of a yard with a boat paddle.

"How long have you and the boy been alone?" Sansa asked, loading the warm loaves of bread into baskets.

"Me boys left a fortnight ago to join up with the rest of the men in the North to fight the Wight Walkers. Yes I know all about that. I'm near my seventy second name day my Ladies. I've always known the tales from the truth. Ye don't live in the North yer whole living life and not know what's real and what ain't. Robert, get to carryin' these baskets out to the stable for them soldiers." She threw heavy burlap sacks atop the baskets to keep in the warmth. "Stew's nearly done. I hope they have their own cups and spoons. I ain't got nearly enough for that lot."

"Yes madam Flint. They've their own." Brienne washed her hands in the bowl of warm water near the hearth and asked, "Are the rooms prepared for guests? Not that it matters. To us, a bed is a bed. All of us would be happy with a dry blanket, a floor and a roof."

"They're always ready. There's six rooms upstairs. Lady Stark may take the large room all the way in the back. It's the finest."

"Thank you Mrs. Flint," Sansa said. "I won't forget your kindness when the spring comes and I'm able to return to Winterfell."

"My Lady, yer optimism is a breath of fresh air ta me but I'm old and I may not look it but I'm wise as well. It's a blessin' havin' you all here. There's good men and there's plenty a bad ones too. I don't expect Robert nor meself to live to see the spring when a band of the bad ones stumble through here. The last bunch took his mother right in front of him right after the good men rode off. He ain't hardly spoke since that night. I buried her in the snow behind the stables. Ain't the strength ta dig no graves." Mrs. Flint dried her hands in her apron and called from the back door for Robert to line the soldiers up at the door with their cups.

Brienne and Sansa filled four large bowls with stew and a loaf of bread on trays and carried them into the dining room where Podrick and Jaime sat, deep in conversation. Still deeply saddened by Mrs. Flint's story, their sullen expressions drew inquiries from Jaime and Podrick as the reason. Brienne simply stated, "This world is shit. When we're finished eating, we have a grave to dig."

At the end of the evening, they thanked Mrs. Flint again and headed up the stairs to their rooms. Brienne stopped on the stairs and spied Mrs. Flint, sitting alone at a table, opening a book. "You go on ahead, I'll join you in a few minutes," she said to Jaime, and headed back down to speak to her.

"Do you mind?" Brienne asked, pulling a chair to sit.

"Not at all, my Lady but if you're crossing the Knife come mornin', you'd better get some rest. That handsome Lannister fella's gonna want his dessert before ye close yer eyes and I'm out of lemon cakes."

"You are wise indeed madam," Brienne blushed.

Mrs. Flint dipped her quill in an ink well and began to write in the book as Brienne looked on. Fifty soldiers on horseback, two knights, one squire and Lady Stark of Winterfell. Fifteen loaves of bread and a full cauldron of rabbit stew, one barrel of ale. Brought me ten butchered stags as payment and buried my daughter Melanie.

"Is this your accounts?" Brienne asked.

"I keep account of every man, woman and child who walks through that door or sleeps in my stables."

"But, I get the feeling you don't believe the North can win against the Night King and his armies. What does it matter to keep records now?"

"That Lannister, Jaime Lannister."

"What about him?"

"He's a seasoned fighter, not some escort—lover or not. Do ye know what a greenseer is my Lady?"

"Yes."

"I dreamed of ye all last night. I had a dream the Lightbringer was near. Ye know the legend of Lightbringer?"

"Of course but what does that have to do with Jaime Lannister?"

"I know yer all headed for that ship in White Harbor but the Lannister, he needs to go back to Winterfell. The King's gonna need him in the fight."

Mrs. Flint patted Brienne's hand and headed to her chamber off the kitchen, blowing out candles as she went until she disappeared into the darkness. Brienne sat alone in the light of the single candle on the table and then picked it up and headed up the stairs.


	9. Forged 100 Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghosts and legends can be real. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her head was pressed into his chest as she clung to him. His expression went from shock to bewilderment, to disbelief in a matter of seconds. "My darling woman, don't be taken in so easily by this old woman's bedtime story. I can assure you, my life has been anything but charmed, and I've certainly never forged my own sword."

Jaime was lying awake when Brienne entered his bed chamber. She was quiet and moved slowly, still pondering what Mrs. Flint had said to her. She'd heard stories of the Lightbringer, as a child, as most children who were fortunate enough to have a Septa, did. She sat down the candle that she'd carried to light her way and gazed at it, as she unbuckled Oathkeeper and then worked to remove her armor.

"May I help you?" Jaime asked, sitting up in the bed.

She didn't answer but only nodded. Jaime stood and began unfastening the ties and toggles until she was free, and she stood in front of him in her tunic and pants. He looked at her face, half aglow in candlelight and half in shadow. "My dream," he muttered.

"What?" she asked, at last turning to look at him.

"Your face in this light reminds me of the dream I had of you—the dream that sent me back to get you from the Boltons. What's wrong with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Come, sit down and tell me about it." Jaime led her by the hand to the bed and they sat.

"You've heard of Lightbringer?"

"Well of course. Haven't all children when learning of legends and lore?"

"Lightbringer is a belief of those who follow the blood magic," Brienne said softly, turning and looking in Jaime's eyes.

"It's just a story although of course, we now know that most of the legends and stories, and nightmares are true. Perhaps this gallant warrior with the flaming sword was real, and he did in fact defeat the Night King and drive the Wights back beyond the wall."

"What if he was reborn and everything that's happening now was a prophecy? What if this Lord of Light is real and Lightbringer is real, and the legend, of Azor Ahair is…real?"

"Brienne, what's brought all of this on, tonight of all nights?" Jaime asked, searching her eyes for answers.

"Mrs. Flint is a greenseer. She told me you had to return to Winterfell. She said she had a dream of us—all of us and that Lightbringer was near."

"If any of us were carrying Lightbringer, I'm sure we'd…"

Brienne interrupted, seizing him in a tight embrace, "Not any of us, Jaime, you."

Her head was pressed into his chest as she clung to him. His expression went from shock to bewilderment, to disbelief in a matter of seconds. "My darling woman, don't be taken in so easily by this old woman's bedtime story. I can assure you, my life has been anything but charmed, and I've certainly never forged my own sword."

"She said you must return to Winterfell," Brienne said, lifting her head from his chest and resting it on his shoulder.

"If the King in the North calls me back to Winterfell, I'll go. It's my duty. He hasn't done that, Brienne. He's sent us to White Harbor. Now come to bed. Enough of this nonsense. If the Night King and his armies are defeated, it won't be with one flaming sword, a flaming dragon perhaps and an army of brave soldiers, maybe." He lay back on the bed and pulled her down next to him, cradling her in his arms.

"Your hand," Brienne said.

"What about my hand?"

"You haven't taken it off," she replied.

"So I haven't," he said, removing it and holding it above his face for a moment, studying it. "You know, Qyburn did an excellent job with this but I'm beginning to think had he fashioned it as a hand would hold a sword, I'd have learned to use it as such. After all this time, my left hand still doesn't work as well as my right did."

"Perhaps it isn't supposed to," Brienne said, taking the golden hand from him. She sat up and leaned over him and placed it on the night table. "Well, it's obviously become more a part of you than even you know."

"And why is that?" he asked, pulling her down on top of him.

"Feel it," she said, picking it up and handing it back to him.

"It feels the same as it ever has."

"It's warm. It's as warm as your other hand."

"But it doesn't work as well as my other hand," he said, handing it back to her and touching her face as he kissed her. "No more ghost stories. No more legends." He brushed the wisps of blond hair away from her face as he gazed up at her.

"Jaime, remember the day you gave me Oathkeeper and my armor?" she asked, lying down next to him and wrapping her arm across his chest.

"How could I ever forget that day?"

"Why were you so eager for me to leave Kings Landing?"

"Eager? Was I eager? I don't recall acting eager at all," he answered, rising a bit and looking down at her.

"You were and yet, when I looked back at you…"

"You were crying," he said, interrupting her. "I saw your tears. I wanted to call you back or jump on my horse and go with you but I couldn't. Not yet."

"Not yet. Was it because of Cersei?"

His head fell back onto the bed and he closed his eyes tightly. "She mentioned something about your head and how I'd encouraged you to love me by saving you from the Boltons. She told me you were proud about throwing it in her face at Joffrey's wedding. I knew better. That's not you but she wouldn't hear of it. I may have seemed eager to see you out of Kings Landing but only for your own protection."

"I did love you then. I loved you even before that. I don't know when I loved you only that when we parted ways that day, it broke my heart. You'd think I'd been used to rejection by then but this was different. My heart was broken for me as much as it was broken for you."

"For me, why?" he asked, turning on his side and lying face to face with her.

"Because I knew you loved me too. I believed your eagerness for me to go was because of that love and you couldn't bear being torn between me and Cersei."

"What of it now? What good does it do either of us to look back when we're here right now. We're together and that is all that matters. You accomplished what needed to be done and so did I. We're free now, Brienne," he said, reaching out and pulling her to him. He kissed her gently—a lover's kiss, a kiss full of promise and tenderness. "I want to marry you. I disappointed my father by becoming a King's guard. He wanted me to marry a highborn lady and become the Lord of Casterly Rock. Perhaps he'll see from wherever he is that I've at last fulfilled his dream."

"After the war is over then?" Brienne asked, curling in close to him.

"If there's a Maester left in White Harbor, you're mine. For all we know, you could be with child by now. If anything should happen to me, I won't leave the woman I love with a bastard child."

Brienne smiled and at last, the room fell silent as they both drifted off to sleep.

By the time the sun rose again, their horses were packed and Mrs. Flint had decided to welcome no other guests until the long winter passed. With more than enough meat to last her and Robert for a year or more of stews, and one of the soldiers having taught Robert how to set rabbit snares, she believed they'd survive. They even left her weapons of dragon glass, although they knew neither of the pair would survive using them. Brienne asked Mrs. Flint if she and Robert wanted to join them on their journey to White Harbor, believing they'd be safer there but she refused. Mrs. Flint did, however, give them guidance on where to cross the White Knife safely and she had one final request before they at last rode off.

"Ser Jaime," she said, approaching him as he was about to mount his horse. "May I see that golden hand I've heard tale of?"

He glanced over at Brienne with a bewildered glance, to which she replied with a nod as if to say, "What harm could it do?"

Mrs. Flint's crooked fingers curled around Jaime's golden hand and she closed her eyes, whispering a few words under her breath. When her eyes opened, she looked up at him and said, "Listen to your dreams for in them you'll find the answers. Your destiny lies in Winterfell. Don't wait for the King's orders. You'll know when it is time to go."

Jaime was speechless. He withdrew his hand from her and climbed into his saddle. Brienne came along next to him and they galloped away, headed for White Harbor.


	10. Chickens, Lords and Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is in two parts. Two parts of Westeros and two completely different objectives are in play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There ain't no more old friends girl. Anyone worth a shit and can hold a sword is headed north. That's if they haven't been pressed to fight for the fucking Lannisters."
> 
> In the distance, Jaime spotted the domed roof of the Sept of the Snows. He turned to Brienne and pointed her eyes towards it. "We're almost there." It was late evening and they still had a day's ride to reach their destination at the port, but Jaime's thoughts were of reaching the sept and fulfilling his vow to Brienne.

Sandor Clegane and Arya Stark were the oddest of allies. No one could have accused them of friendship lest they could easily lose their head. However, as fate had done before, they found themselves alone together on the same path, both seeking the same outcome; death to their final enemies.

By the time Brienne and Jaime had reached White Harbor, Arya and Sandor had already made their way through The Neck and down to Greywater Watch, where they'd abandoned their horses for a boat. They saved days of travel by simply allowing the waters to carry them, all the way to the now deserted Twins—save for servants and the many daughters of Walder Frey. Their passage beyond into the Green Fork was unrestricted, as their stealth was only matched by Arya's ability to change into anyone she wanted or rather, anyone she chose to kill in order to gain passage.

If Sandor Clegane was frightened by her transformations, he never showed it. The mission was the only thought in his mind. The other thought was always hunger, and the banks of the river were still teaming with game and the Riverlands were crowded with taverns and inns.

"We'll stop here," he said to Arya, as he turned his oar in the murky green water, now almost black as the night crept over the sky.

"Seems as good a place as any. Torchlights, there," she pointed to the east bank. "No more than a quarter mile.

They pulled their boat, a twenty-foot skiff with a thick canvas canopy, onto the shore and covered it with fallen branches to keep it hidden. "There's no moon or stars. We'll need a torch," Arya said, fashioning one from a broken tree limb and dried moss, held together with a thick vine. "Here, hold this," she said, handing it to him so she could light it. He held it as far away from himself as he could; which was a great distance as his arms were nearly three feet long.

He followed behind her through the wet brush, until they came upon a small clearing, leading to a hovel of a place with a lone torchlight at the door. Arya crept to the small front window and peered in, finding only four empty tables and a barking dog. She turned and nodded at Sandor to enter and placed her own torch on the ground.

As the door opened, the mongrel of a mutt ran up to them, barking loudly yet his tail wagged so fiercely he could barely keep on his feet. He was small, maybe twenty pounds and had wiry black fur with wisps of silver throughout. "Good dog," Sandor said, brushing the dog aside gently with his boot.

"Who is it, Woody?" asked the aged yet fit man now entering from what they believed to be a kitchen. There was a thick and hearty aroma of roasted chicken and pies. They'd definitely be staying a bit. "Good evening sir and madam. May I bring ye some ale?"

"Yes, and keep it coming," Sandor said, pulling out a chair to sit and Arya did as well. "Is that chicken I smell?"

"Yes sir it is. I've just taken them out of the oven," the man replied, setting two cups in front of them and filling each of them to the brim with ale.

"How many?" Sandor asked, then finished off his first cup.

"I wasn't expecting company sir, so only four," the man answered, backing away slightly as Sandor glared at him.

"Put in four more. What we don't eat we'll carry with us. And leave the pitcher." Sandor reached into his belt and slammed two golden dragons down on the table.

"S...sir, that's far too much for eight chickens and a pitcher of ale," the man stammered.

"Who said anything about one pitcher?"

"Yes, yes sir. I'll bring the chickens right away, sir." The man stumbled a bit backwards and turned and rushed to the kitchen.

"Where'd you get the money?" Arya asked, to which Sandor grinned slightly, tight-lipped. "It doesn't matter. I'm starving."

"We'll take all the bread as well. I don't want to stop again until we reach Lord Harraways Town."

"Lord Harraways? That's close to the Kingsroad and," Arya stopped. She stared off for a moment. "The Inn at the Crossroads is just across the river from there."

"There's no way we'll be stopping there. The last time didn't end so well." Sandor looked at her from over his cup.

"You don't have to. You can wait with the boat. I'll go. I need to check on an old friend."

"Here ye are," the man said, placing a platter loaded with chicken and hot bread on the table before them. "The chickens are in the oven. I'll wrap them up good and tight for your journey." He bowed and returned to his work.

"There ain't no more old friends girl. Anyone worth a shit and can hold a sword is headed north. That's if they haven't been pressed to fight for the fucking Lannisters."

"He's not a fighter. He's a cook. He'd put these crows to shame," she said, picking off a chicken leg and pointing it at Sandor. "It doesn't matter what you want. I'm going to see him. It may be the last time. I saw him months ago when I was heading to Kings Landing the first time. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't know Winterfell was back under Stark control and gone to see what's left of my family."

"You mean you've tried this before?"

"No. I wanted to. I believed my whole family was dead. I had nothing left to lose except my own life. I was going to kill Cersei or die trying."

"Timing is everything girl. Now you know better." He spoke with mouthfuls of food and chewed with his mouth open as well.

"You're repulsive you know that?"

"I'm hungry. Do you think I care what I look like?"

"Obviously not. No wonder you've never had a woman." Arya rolled her eyes and stuffed a hunk of chicken in her mouth.

"Ha! I'm a hound and you eat like a dog. Aren't you supposed to be a lady, my Lady?" he laughed, plucking off a thick piece of meat and tossing it to the ragged mutt who'd been lingering at his ankles.

"My sister is a Lady. I'm no one—no one like her."

"I'll drink to that. There's no one like your sister."

"What do you mean by that!" she snapped at him.

"I could tell you stories about your sister. Ah, you wouldn't believe me anyway," he said, ripping off a piece of bread and smashing it into the chicken grease pooling on his plate.

"Try me. I'd be interested in hearing one."

"Pour me some more ale and I'll tell you about how that Bastard Joffrey tortured that poor girl. He used that cunt, Trant, to beat her. Had him rip the dress from her back in front of the court and beat her with his sword. If it hadn't been for Lord Tyrion, things might have gotten even worse."

"Not anymore." Arya's eyes dimmed with the memory of dead Meryn Trant in Bravos, and then a smile of satisfaction relit them again.

"No, not anymore. She'll never have to suffer again. Once this deed is done, and we've rid ourselves of those dead bastards, I'll be free to go to Winterfell and serve King Snow. I don't mind the cold anymore."

"My brother, or my sister?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, downing his fourth cup of ale.

"You'd better slow down. I can't carry you back to the boat, and you know what I mean."

Sandor was in fact slipping deeper into his cups, and his words flowed freely. Arya filled his cup again and called for the man to bring another pitcher.

"You mean I want to serve your sister. Yes. At first, all those years ago, I thought she was just a stupid little bitch who lived in a dream world of being a queen, and crapping out Joffrey's babies. Then when I had to stand by and watch what they did to her, day after day, I realized she was just surviving them. Just like me."

"Surviving them?"

"Your sister was a prisoner girl. She was like an actress playing a part." He continued shoving food into his mouth and drinking his ale as he spoke. His eyes were lidded and his speech a bit slurred now. "The night of the Blackwater, I hid in her room."

"You told me this story before. You said you should have fucked her bloody. I wanted to kill you for that."

"You were so easy to provoke back then. I called her little bird." He closed his eyes for a second and smiled. "The most beautiful, perfect little bird I'd ever seen." He paused. "She said to me, 'I know you won't hurt me.' She was right. I'd have cut off my own hands before I could have ever hurt her. I wanted to kill anyone who ever did hurt her."

Arya held back the pitcher away from him. She'd decided hearing him speak of her sister this way was more than enough from him for one night. She called out to the old man, "Aye, those chickens ready yet?"

"I'm wrapping them up now miss. I'll be right there."

"Don't worry yourself girl. I know I'm not good enough for the fine Lady Sansa Stark. Why the fuck do you think I'm such a miserable bastard?" he asked over a laugh. "Could you imagine?" he asked and then his laughter stopped, and his face grew sullen and sad. "I've imagined it. I've seen it in my dreams and while I'm awake."

"Come on, let's go. You can sleep it off in the boat." Arya rose to her feet and took Sandor by the arm. "Let's go."

"Here miss. They're wrapped up good and tight," the man said, handing her a sack.

"Thank you."

~:~:~

In the distance, Jaime spotted the domed roof of the Sept of the Snows. He turned to Brienne and pointed her eyes towards it. "We're almost there." It was late evening and they still had a day's ride to reach their destination at the port, but Jaime's thoughts were of reaching the sept and fulfilling his vow to Brienne.

Once their camp was set up and secured, and food about to be eaten, Brienne, Jaime, Sansa and Podrick sat in a circle around their fire. Sansa told them her fonder memories of staying at the Vale. She told of the glorious views from every window, the snow-covered courtyards and the quiet. She remembered how quiet it was there and after having lived in Kings Landing, she was thankful for the peace. She raved over the excellent food, and how her cousin Robyn was such a sniveling little brat. She marveled at how regardless of the snake he was, Petyr Baelish had somehow managed to turn Robyn into a mature, capable Lord for the castle.

"Will you have to marry him?" Podrick asked.

"Podrick! That's hardly a proper question for a Lady," Brienne scolded.

"It's quite all right, Brienne. I don't have to marry anyone I don't want to ever again—or at all for that matter. Although, the thought of loving someone and being loved in return would be wonderful and certainly not out of the question."

Jaime reached over and held Brienne's hand for a moment and then spoke, "Speaking of love, would you both be so kind as to join Lady Brienne and I at the sept tomorrow when we reach White Harbor?"

Podrick and Sansa looked at each other curiously and then back at Jaime.

"Lady Brienne, having recently gone completely mad, has agreed to be my wife."

"What?" Sansa shouted. "That's…this is absolutely marvelous news! In the midst of all of this insanity, finally something to be happy about! Congratulations!"

Podrick looked down at the ground and then over at Sansa's glowing smile in the firelight. Brienne noticed his sullen and dejected expression and spoke directly to him. "Pod, don't worry, nothing will change. You'll always have a place with us."

He rose to his feet and dusted off his pants. "Thank you m'Lady. Congratulations to you and Ser Jaime. I wish you all the happiness in the world," he said with a bow and walked off to his tent.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think that young man is jealous," Jaime whispered close to Brienne's cheek and then kissed it.

"Don't be ridiculous. Look," she said, nodding her head towards Sansa, who was turned watching Podrick walk away. "What you saw was the broken heart of a young man who'll never have the woman he loves."

"Should I go and speak to him?"

"No. She'll do that herself. This is for them to figure out, Jaime. We have enough of our own circumstances to unravel."

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll get some rest," Sansa said solemnly, rising to her feet and walking off.

"Looks like it's only us now. Come to bed with me," Jaime said, rising to his feet and pulling Brienne up as he stood.

"Do you think after the war, the world will change enough to allow love to win, regardless of houses and titles?"

Jaime's eyes pinched in thought as he took Brienne into his arms. "Hmm. Should we be happy when our beautiful, high born daughter chooses to marry a squire or God forbid, a smith someday?"

"The answer is yes. I'll simply be grateful if she doesn't have to wait half her life for the one she loves," Brienne whispered, and pressed her forehead to Jaime's.


	11. Until My Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to White Harbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Gone to the war of course. King Aegon called all the banners, but I'm sure you knew that. When he and his envoy of Dothraki and Unsullied and the Targaryen Queen arrived in White Harbor, before making their journey up to Winterfell, he called them all and not a man or woman who was able bodied, stayed. I've been here watching over the rest."

The Wolf's Den loomed like a darker, more sinister version of the Wall in the North, and much smaller as well. As they approached the city, Jaime wondered if the fortress was still full of prisoners, or if they'd all gained their freedom to go and fight the dead. Many a man of the Night's Watch had spent time behind its high black walls, before trading their freedom rather than their hands or their head. The dark, crumbling old structure was silent, save for the rustling branches of the giant weirwood hart tree and the godswood that reached out from within, through cracks in the walls and the dark gaping eyes of the windows.

They kept their course and passed by quickly, finding the once busy and bustling city now quiet. They could hear every hoof-beat of their horses as they clopped along down the cobblestone streets on their way to the port. Jaime sent the soldiers on ahead to find food, lodging and stables for their horses, but even he appeared unnerved by the emptiness everywhere they turned.

"Brienne, it appears the Manderlys have already taken their army, and by the looks of it everyone else, north already. We'll head to the sept. There must be someone there who can answer our questions." Jaime wheeled his horse around and led Brienne, Podrick and Sansa toward the large dome, surmounted by statues of the Seven. In the North, The Sept of the Snows was unique in that they kept only the faith of the seven and did not, save for a few, observe the old Gods.

Jaime eyed the sept with deep regard. Although never having been a man of religion, he was familiar with not only White Harbor, but also with the Maester of House Manderly. After all, Maester Theomore was a Lannister after all.

"You've been here before?" Brienne asked, when Jaime stopped to admire the structure.

"Yes, in my youth. I've been to every corner of this kingdom over my years. Let's hope Maester Theomore is present. If not, we'll head to the New Castle. I'm sure we'll find him there if not here."

"Maester Theomore; you're familiar with him as well?" Brienne inquired, as Jaime took her hand as she dismounted her horse.

"Maester Theomore…Lannister. Yes, I'm familiar with him as well." Jaime led her by the hand into the sept. Their heads turned at the divine architecture and the underside of the enormous dome. Someone had been tending to it on that morning, as all of the candles were lit, and the wax shown perhaps an hour of melted pools beneath their flames.

"It's quite beautiful. Not quite the sept of Baelor but…well, I suppose the sept of Baelor is no longer a rival," Sansa said, her voice lowering as she spoke.

Podrick trailed along behind her, watching in every direction for any sign of danger. "My Lord," he said to Jaime, pointing towards the altar. As they drew closer, they could see a man in a maester's cloak, kneeling next to it.

Jaime released Brienne's hand and used it instead to grasp the hilt of his sword as he stepped closer. "Maester Theomore?"

The man pushed back his hood and turned, facing them as he stood. "Yes, my Lord. May I be of assistance?"

"Maester Theomore, you may not remember me, but I'm Jaime, Jaime Lannister."

"Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin, here in White Harbor, at this horrible time in our history. What brings you here?"

"King Snow has ordered me to see his sisters to the Vale for their protection."

"It appears you are one sister short, Ser Jaime."

"Well, yes. Arya Stark had other plans and chose to go her own way."

"Where is everyone?" Brienne spoke up and asked, moving to Jaime's side.

"Gone to the war of course. King Aegon called all the banners, but I'm sure you knew that. When he and his envoy of Dothraki and Unsullied and the Targaryen Queen arrived in White Harbor, before making their journey up to Winterfell, he called them all and not a man or woman who was able bodied, stayed. I've been here watching over the rest."

"He sent word that there would be a ship here for us to sail to Old Anchor," Jaime said.

"Indeed, he did. I'd have told you sooner that I was expecting you, but having not laid eyes on you since you were a lad of fifteen and never having met your companions, I made the choice to be certain with whom I was speaking, before I spoke." Maester Theomore waved them to follow him to his chamber, a large room with white stone walls and dark cherrywood furniture covered in thick old books. A staircase ascended at the back of the room which led to the highest point in the sept, where the ravens were kept. "Here," he said, handing Jaime a scroll.

_Maester Theomore,_  
I'm sending Ser Jaime Lannister and my sister Sansa to White Harbor. See that they are provided with a ship large enough to carry them, and fifty soldiers, to Old Anchor. The ship should bear no banners but appear only a merchant ship. Provide them with whatever they'll need for their journey.  
King Aegon 

"So you see? All has been provided for you. Your ship awaits you with a capable crew. Fortunately, we were well stocked, and the armies didn't carry off everything in our stores when they departed. Oh, I almost forgot. There's another scroll for you Ser Jaime," Maester Theomore said, placing the scroll in his hand.

_Ser Jaime,_  
As per my last letter, I asked you to protect my sister, Sansa. I made no mention of Arya because as you now know, she's of her own mind. I was aware of her plan to abandon your party and strike off on her own. I hold neither you nor Brienne responsible for anything that may happen to her. I do pray that she is successful in her endeavor, and trust in her strength and cunning. I only hope she finds her way back to Winterfell once she's done. Please send a raven from the Vale when you arrive.  
King Aegon 

"Well that answers a lot," Jaime said sarcastically.

"What does it say?" Brienne asked.

"Is he all right? Is Winterfell still standing?" Sansa inquired, reaching for the letter.

"He makes no mention of the war. Only of your continued safety my Lady," Jaime said, pacing across the floor with a confused expression.

"Jaime, what is it?" Brienne asked.

"King Snow spoke as if he knew what Arya was doing and where she was going."

"Perhaps she discussed it with him before we left," Brienne said, a pang of uneasiness turned in her stomach.

"What could she be doing? I hadn't really considered it until now."

"A spy in Kings Landing perhaps?" said Podrick, nervously glancing at Brienne. "I heard she can change faces to whomever she likes. I suppose that's a talent a spy could use quite well."

"The King said he already had allies in Kings Landing, who were advising him of Cersei's movements and the army's," Jaime said and then suddenly turned to Brienne. "Do you know?"

"I knew she and the Hound would make their way to King's Landing. He wants to end his brother."

"And?" Jaime asked, straightening his back and looking at her in such a way that she could not deny him the truth.

"Arya wants to kill Cersei."

"You've known this for how long now? Weeks? A month?"

"I only wanted to protect you!"

"Are they both insane? They'll never get anywhere near the Mountain or Cersei. They'll be covered in guards and infantry."

"Well it wasn't as if we could stop them anyway."

"Could everyone leave us please? I need to speak with Brienne alone."

"Of course, Ser Jaime. There is another scroll for you as well. This one came from a Samwell Tarly," said Maester Theomore. He sat it on the desk and followed Sansa and Podrick from the room.

"Do you want to read that first?" Brienne asked, looking down at the scroll.

"I want to know why you didn't tell me Arya Stark and Sandor Clegane were going to Kings Landing," Jaime demanded, pacing the floor again.

"I wasn't entirely certain until now but yes, I believed Arya wanted to finish her list of names."

"What list of names?"

"She blames Cersei for her father's death. She blames Cersei for many things; for hurting so many people she cared about. Arya has had a list for years of those who have wronged her family. From what I understand, she's handled quite a few of them, most notably, the entire House of Frey." Brienne stood with her head high. She knew she'd deceived Jaime by omission, but she believed her reasons were justified.

"That still doesn't answer my question," Jaime said, strolling up to her and staring her dead in the eyes.

"I was afraid if I told you my theory of where Arya had gone, it may cause a conflict within in you toward our cause!"

"Towards our cause Brienne or towards you?" Jaime whispered, an inch from her face.

"Both. Is that what you want to hear?" A lone tear escaped her eye and rolled down her flushed cheek. "I knew she'd driven you away with her lies and deceit but why was this time any different than the hundreds of times before? We needed you. I needed you. You can't fault me for protecting our interests rather than creating a conflict within you that Arya was going to kill Cersei."

"You didn't even give me a choice," he muttered, turning from her and walking a few steps away. He stood with his back to her for several moments before he said, "When I left, Cersei was pregnant. I've not told a living soul about this. I not only turned my back on her but on our unborn child—an innocent. I did all that because not only had she betrayed me in her plot with Euron Greyjoy, I doubted the child was even mine. I wasn't foolish enough anymore to believe she'd been in any way faithful to me—oh no, I've known her since before we were born. Those who knew of her lovers and enjoyed seeing what little faith I had torn from me, reveled in their whispers and disclosures of all the men she'd laid with. Yes, I wanted to believe otherwise but I knew. I always knew." He turned and leaned back against Maester Theomore's desk, stumbling a bit to find his balance. "She wanted to kill me, Brienne, but she didn't. She let me walk away. You need to understand something," he said, raising his eyes to her at last. "I can never hate her. Not even if Arya succeeds, but I don't love her anymore. I don't know when I stopped, but I haven't since the day I fell in love with you. I told you when we were walking through the woods that day, we don't choose who we love."

Brienne stepped carefully towards him and as she drew closer, he reached out and pulled her to him. He pressed the top of his head against her chest and she cradled it there until he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to her. "I love you. I want to marry you. I want our lives to go on after this over. Please don't ever doubt my loyalty again."

"I won't," she cried. "I swear it to you, I won't."

He reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand and then pulled her into a passionate kiss. "Marry me, Brienne," he whispered between her lips. "Marry me, now."

"Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am yours and you are mine. From this day, till the end of my days."

They said their vows in unison, as Sansa and Podrick looked on. Maester Theomore bound their hands together in the traditional way, in the Light of the Seven. They sealed their vows with a deep yet tender kiss and then knelt in silent prayer, together.

Jaime had read the scroll in private, prior to them entering the sept to wed. Brienne was occupied; removing her armor. Sansa placed white flowers in her hair, and painted her lips with the juice of ripe cherries. When they made their final ride down to the dock to board the ship for Old Anchor, Jaime handed Brienne the scroll and told her to board with Sansa, while he and Podrick finished gathering up the soldiers, and securing their supplies for the journey.

With Sansa secure in her cabin, Brienne entered her own and sat down on the bunk to read Samwell Tarly's letter.

_Ser Jaime,_  
A raven came today from our allies in Kings Landing. Queen Cersei has had a miscarriage. They gave no other details but that she was alive. Her child was born deceased and was stricken with the same dwarfism and deformity as your brother Tyrion. You have my condolences.  
Samwell Tarly on behalf of,  
King Aegon Targaryen 


	12. The Shivering Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our journey continues at sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His eyes closed but as the darkness once again overtook him, he kept repeating, "Brienne. Brienne. Brienne…"

Brienne was quiet and subdued when Jaime entered their cabin. She was resting in their bunk, lying back in just her tunic and pants but she couldn't sleep. They'd all settled in, but she and Jaime had stayed on deck until they were away from the dock, and White Harbor was fading from sight behind them. Jaime insisted she rest and implored her to go and lay down. He told her he'd be along soon, and he was.

They were already an hour into the Bite with good wind, and well on their way towards the Shivering Sea. She worried about him over the news from Sam Tarly but he seemed fine in every way possible; his usual self. She wasn't sure if he was masking his sadness over the loss of his child, or had simply filled his thoughts with other things to keep his sorrow at bay. She knew his heart, but she also knew his ability to chamber his emotions. After all, they'd both done it for years.

Their cabin was spacious as cabins go aboard ships of this size, but it was growing colder by the minute. There was no traditional fireplace, but inside of the hearth, was a thick steel caldron, set upon weighty stones to light a small fire to hold off the chill.

"Are you hungry?" Jaime asked, as he sat in a plain wooden chair near a small table and removed his boots and tunic, and started the fire.

"Not really. You?" Brienne asked.

"I am, actually," he said and stood. "But not for food at the moment. This is our wedding night after all." He smiled his devilish grin that drove her mad, and crawled into the bunk, resting on one elbow. He looked down at her for a moment and then leaned over her. His left hand slid from the outside of her right hip, until his palm flattened against the mattress to support his weight, pinning her beneath him.

"Oh really?" she asked and gave him a flirtatious grin. "Well, there's plenty of me so I hope you're very hungry." She giggled.

Jaime leaned down and kissed her as soft as a feather, and then took her bottom lip between his teeth, gently tugging it before letting it go. "My dear wife, I could start here," he whispered, doing it again. "And continue on to here…" he said, nipping at her ear. "And on to here…" He moaned softly, repeating his gentle bites until he reached the soft, taught flesh beneath her earlobe. "I could do this forever and yet never find the end of you."

Without thought or intention, her hand slid up his arm. Her fingertips dug into the hard, defined muscles and held on. Locking eyes with him she said, "I challenge you to at least try." She freed her other hand from behind him and pulled him completely on top of her, crashing her mouth into his. Her hands pawed roughly at his back as she writhed beneath him, opening her long legs and wrapping him tightly between them.

He pulled away, and sat back on his knees, watching her, as she raked her fingertips down over his chest, and onward, to where his pants sat low on his hips. Her fingers danced over the soft, blond feathers of hair below the waist of his pants, and then pulled at the strings to free him into her waiting hand. He pushed his trousers down passed his bottom and continued watching her. Her eyes never left his as she stroked him, until at last, he could stand it no longer.

"Take off your shirt," he whispered in a low growl.

She released his now full erection and sat up, stripping the tunic from her body, and tossing it away. Instantly, he pressed his hand against her naked chest, pushing her back down onto the bed, and began pulling roughly at the ties of her pants.

"Get them off, now!" He rolled to his side to allow her to tear those from her body as well. As quickly as she'd tossed them, he's was again ensnared by her long, lean legs and pressed tightly between them. "Our first order of business in the Vale," he said, already thrusting himself inside of her. "Having dresses made for you." He leaned over her, supporting his weight on his one hand, and driving himself deeply into her as she gasped. "I'll not have anything between me and this ever, again," he said, now breathing in short blasts. "You're mine."

"Have me then," she said over panted breath, clawing at his waist, pulling him harder and harder into her. Have her he did, until the chill in their cabin was overtaken by sweat, and their thoughts chased away by pleasure until they at last, fell asleep.

"Brienne?" he shouted in the darkness. "Brienne! Where are you?" he shouted again. Jaime was alone in the dark, in the depths of a dream so real the thought to awaken never came. "I've been here before, beneath Casterly Rock," he said aloud to himself as he stood upon a sheet of ice. "No, not again. I cannot be here again because there is no water. This is elsewhere but what, elsewhere? Brienne will be here soon. I'll stand here quietly and wait for her presence beside me."

He did wait but there was no sound. There was no Brienne.

"By all the Gods I will wait! I will wait forever for the sound of her feet, walking towards me. I know she's coming. It's so dark. Perhaps she can't find me! Brienne! Brienne!" Suddenly, a low soft light appeared. He turned himself in a circle and looked down. He was wearing his golden hand. He raised it in the darkness and it glowed. The light emanating from it grew brighter and brighter until he had to pinch his eyes nearly shut just to look at it.

"What is this magic?" he cried out. "What sorcery is this that has overtaken my hand?" He clutched it with his left hand and pulled and twisted it as hard as he could, but it wouldn't budge. He couldn't take it off. Then, the glow began to travel into his forearm and up to his shoulder. He waved it in the darkness and shook it violently away from his body. It was as if it was now a part of him.

"Jaime," he heard Brienne's voice coming out of the darkness. She wore a white and golden gown that flowed like water over her body. "I'm coming."

He stood with his arms outstretched to greet her, but she stopped, just out of his reach. "Come to me, Brienne. Come here to me now!" he shouted. A sense of panic grew in him as he realized he couldn't move his legs. He was frozen in place. "Brienne, help me. I can't move. Come to me please?" he begged.

She walked to him until she was close enough for him to touch her. "Once you take me in your arms, it's over. Do you understand?"

"I want it to be over. I need to feel you against me. I need you in my arms, Brienne. Your love will sustain me. Only that can save me from this. I know it!" He reached out and took hold of her. His golden hand burst into flames. He held it out and away from them. She wrapped her arms around him. "What's happening, Brienne? What's happening to me?" he shouted, pulling her tightly against him and he began to fall.

"Jaime no," she cried out, falling at his side, holding on to him. It was as if they were falling into a deep pit. They landed on a blanket of snow. Brienne sat, cradling him in her arms, crying loud, wailing tears. She raised her face and looked into his eyes. "I warned you but you wouldn't listen! Why don't you listen!"

Jaime's head was back, draped over her arm. He raised it enough to meet her gaze when he saw someone standing behind her. It was his brother, Tyrion. "Tyrion, thank the Gods. My hand, do you see it?" he asked. He blinked and saw the Targaryen Queen and King Snow now appearing out of the darkness. "This isn't real. None of this is real," he mumbled, turning his head and looking over at his golden hand, engulfed in flames.

"Jaime, Jaime you have to get up. Let me help you stand," Brienne said, pulling at him, trying to get him on his feet when a moment later, he felt himself floating in the water. The ice had melted. The fire of his hand was slowly dying. "I love you, Jaime. I love you." He heard Brienne's voice fading as she held him in her arms sobbing.

His eyes closed but as the darkness once again overtook him, he kept repeating, "Brienne. Brienne. Brienne…"

"Jaime. Jaime, wake up," Brienne said, patting him lightly on his face.

"Brienne! Brienne!" he moaned in his sleep and began thrashing about. He was soaked in sweat and tears rolled from his eyes. She shook him harder and then climbed on top of him, straddling him.

"Jaime! Wake up! You're having a nightmare," she shouted, holding his arms down onto the bed.

"Brienne," he said as his eyes flew open, staring wildly up at her. "My darling," he sighed and pulled her down against his chest. He held her so tight she could barely breathe. He was crying. He was sobbing.

"I'm right here. I'm right here," she repeated, again and again until after several minutes, he released her and wiped the tears away from his face. "I won't leave you. I'll never leave you."

Suddenly, he sat up, still holding on to her tightly and his eyes scanned the room for his hand. "Where's my hand?"

"It's there, on the table. Jaime, please tell me about this dream that has you shaken to your core," Brienne pleaded.

"What dark magic has that fucking Qyburn done to me? He's condemned me with that fucking golden monstrosity!"

"Jaime, no. Qyburn saved your life. If not for him you'd have died from infection."

"You don't know him. You don't know the sickness in his mind. You've seen the mountain. You've seen what he does to people." Jaime's eyes were still wide with terror. "Now I believe he's done something to me with that hand."

"Jaime, it was a dream. Once you're fully awake you'll know that whatever you saw, isn't real." She stroked his hair as he pressed his cheek between her breasts, still holding on. She soothed him for many minutes, until at last, she felt his body relax and his breathing return to normal. They laid back on the bed together and Brienne curled around him.

"I know it was only a dream. I also know Qyburn is no Maester. He's more of a mad man than anything."

"And up until this night, you'd thought of him as a man with incredible talents, who not only saved your life but gave you a new hand as well." Brienne slid her hand from his chest up to his face and stroked his cheek. Jaime turned his face and placed a hard kiss into her palm.

"I suppose you're right. If he hadn't been there to remove the corrupted tissues from my arm, I'm certain I wouldn't be here right now. I remember the pain. I remember thinking to myself he'd cured the flesh. He'd saved not only my arm but my life."

"An incredible gift."

"Yes, until I sat in the bath with you and realized what good is a life without a soul?"

"You were filled with sickness and fever Jaime. No one knows of that night but us."

"That bath, that was the day. You can call it fever or sickness or anything you want. Qyburn did save my arm and my life that day but it was you Brienne of Tarth, who saved my soul."


	13. A Particular Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fairly short but terribly sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I don't believe you want to know what I thought of you when we first met," she said with a chuckle. "But as we both know, it isn't who people are when we find them, it's how you feel inside when you have to leave them," she said, pulling her cloak over her head and holding it closed at her neck.

By the morning of the next day, they'd passed the Sisters and were headed due east towards Paps. The ship's captain had charted their course carefully. They would stay as close to the islands as possible without encountering any shallows or rocky bottoms that could quickly put an end to their journey. After their breakfast, Jaime and Brienne took a walk on deck. Brienne had never been to these waters before and refused to miss this opportunity to see everything for the first time. In fact, her only voyage was from Tarth to Storms End.

"It's dreadfully cold in the North," she said, stopping at the rail to take in the subtle beauty of the newly risen sun. Although still obstructed by the never ceasing clouds, it was there. The long night hadn't stolen it from them yet.

"We used to poke fun at the northerners in their thick furs, beards and leathers. When any of them would journey south, we'd cringe at their wild and unkempt appearance. I suppose you have to spend time here to understand those furs and beards are all a part of survival. It's wild, no one could argue that but it's also beautiful and clean, and for certain it smells much better than Kings Landing." Jaime smiled, drawing a smile from Brienne as well.

"I love listening to you speak. I know it sounds simple and silly to you but you have a way of seeing the world now that uncomplicates it for me."

"I assure you, the world is complicated. The key is trying to see it without everything you've heard about it. Think of everything you heard about me and yet, what did you find?" he asked, leaning against the rail and giving her a childish grin.

"I don't believe you want to know what I thought of you when we first met," she said with a chuckle. "But as we both know, it isn't who people are when we find them, it's how you feel inside when you have to leave them," she said, pulling her cloak over her head and holding it closed at her neck.

"Brienne, I want to give you something. We'll name it a wedding gift." Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, as Jaime reached into his belt and handed her a weathered piece of parchment, folded tightly.

"What's this?" she asked, taking it from him.

"Just read it, please." His expression was solemn and serious and his eyes deep with honesty. "I wrote it the night I waved to you from the balcony at Riverrun, as I watched you and Pod rowing away down the Red Fork." He looked down at his feet for a moment and sighed, then back up at her from beneath his brow. "I believed that was the last time I'd ever see you."

Brienne unfolded the letter to reveal two sentences in faded ink.

_There is a particular magic in loving someone who doesn't know how unique and wonderful they are. And there is a particular agony when you have to say goodbye to them and be unable to tell them you love them._

Her eyes drank in the words again and again, until tears puddled beneath them. She pulled the letter to her chest and held it there. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I will tell you this though, I once said; there are no men like me, only me. The truth is, Brienne, there are no women like you, only you."

"You wrote this all that time ago and you kept it. Why?"

"I told you why. I thought I'd never see you again. I lay awake all that night, imagining how many times I'd had you right there in front of me and how many opportunities I'd squandered. I remembered you at Harrenhal, in that horrible pink gown and yet to me you were as perfect as a bloomed rose. I remembered your naked body in the bath, so pale, and so pure that even had I been healthy enough to have you there, I wouldn't have felt worthy of you. I thought of your eyes in the sunlight at Kings Landing, and in the shadows of the firelight when you forced me to eat and to live. How even in the dark they could see right through me. Had I had the gift of seeing the future that night as I poured my heart out with ink and paper, I'd have slept like a babe knowing we'd be standing here, together."

"There you go again. Forget the past and all of our mistakes and struggles. All that matters is this moment and every new moment as it comes." She reached out and brushed her gloved fingers down his cheek. "All I remember was two very lonely people who felt something with each other, but it wasn't the right time. The doubt and uncertainty of feeling unworthy or in my case, the fear of rejection and blind innocence is gone now."

"One thing I won't forget is that you nearly killed me," he said over a soft laugh. "Bronn taught me a lot but you my Lady, sparring with you when we're home at Casterly Rock someday will be yet another dream come true."

~:~:~

Sansa hadn't come out of her cabin since they boarded the ship. Podrick began to worry that she was ill and summoned the nerve to knock on her cabin door. He was startled when she opened the door immediately. "My Lady," he blurted out.

"Good morning, Podrick. Is something wrong?" she asked. Her expression was stiff and her voice, flat.

"No my Lady. I only seeked to check on your welfare."

She left the door open and turned and walked to the center of the room. "Are you coming?"

Podrick followed her and closed the door behind him. "Is my Lady feeling well?"

"You didn't come to see me last night. Why suddenly this morning did you feel the need to?" she asked, turning to face him.

"But I was posted outside of your door all night my Lady. That is my duty, to ensure your safety. There are a dozen seamen aboard this ship who we know nothing about. Any one of them could be a criminal or an agent of the Queen."

"Of course, but you didn't even bid me goodnight," she said, walking to the chair near her bunk and sitting.

"Apologies, my Lady." He stood there for what seemed like hours with his hands folded together in front of him until he finally spoke. "Is there anything I can do for my Lady?"

"Oh Pod. You've been inside of me at least a dozen times and yet you still refuse to call me Sansa. Do you know how ridiculous that is?"

"I'm sorry my Lady. I mean to say, Sansa," he said. Here ice blue eyes were boring a hole through him.

"Pod, come and sit with me," Sansa said, patting the furs on the bunk next to her.

He stepped towards her and removed his sword belt and sheath. "It's difficult to sit with all of this," he said setting it on the table. "It's difficult to do much of anything but stand and fight in all of this, but I'm getting used to it."

"Sit Pod," she ordered and he sat. "You're obviously a very experienced lover. I won't ask how you gained such experience for such a young man but needless to say, I'm pleased that you are."

"Well, no my Lady, I mean, Sansa. I've only been with…" his voice lowered and he looked down and away from her.

"Only been with?" she asked, reaching out and turning his face back to her.

"Lord Tyrion paid for a few ladies for me at Littlefinger's brothel in Kings Landing once. That was the extent of my experience."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Sansa said, scoffing at him.

"It's the truth. They wouldn't even take Lord Tyrion's money. They told me it was on the house. I don't even know what I did that was so extraordinary. I still don't."

Sansa turned her face away and covered her mouth with her hand discreetly, to keep from laughing. He was so sincere and earnest. He really had no idea. She gathered herself and turned back to his awaiting gaze but she couldn't find the right words.

"May I ask you, no," he murmured, a blush overtaking his full cheeks.

"Ask me what?" She already knew what he was going to ask but watching him struggle was far too entertaining. She adored how he made her laugh. His innocence and awkward charm was so engaging she dreaded the day she'd have to give him up.

"Do I please you?" His face was now glowing red but his deep brown eyes were pouting at her like those of a lost puppy.

She took his hands into hers and kissed his cheek. It was warm and soft. "If you weren't the only lover I ever had for my entire life, I'd measure anyone else by you."

"I don't want you to ever have another lover. I know that sounds crazy but I don't." His eyes traveled over the perfection that was her face, resting at her eyes. They were inches from a kiss and he awaited it, painstakingly.

"I know you love me, Pod. You've shown me every time we've lain together. Every time we kiss, I can feel it. I believe I could love you if I allowed myself that privilege but as Lady of Winterfell, I don't have the luxury of following my heart. We barely know each other. If I were to love you simply for how you love me, that wouldn't be at all fair to you."

"It is fair to me. My life is yours to do with as you wish. What do you want to know about me? I'll admit there isn't much to tell."

"I know you're brave and kind and your heart is good. If I knew nothing else about you, that would be more than enough. Most importantly, you make me feel safe when you're near."

"Then stop thinking about it, Sansa. Before you were the Lady of Winterfell, you were just a girl." He moved closer to her. His heart pounded like a drum beneath his breast plate. "Be that girl with me…only with me." He leaned forward and kissed her. This wasn't a passionate lover's kiss. This kiss bore promises and vows.

Sansa was lightheaded and swooned beneath his lips. She imagined him a prince and this was the kiss she'd waited for her entire life. It wasn't the kiss to say _you belong to me._ It was the kiss that said _I belong to you._


	14. Moonlight and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love writing battle scenes, but I'll admit I was a bit out of practice. I'm still not completely happy with this one but you be the judge. I also want to thank those of you who have added my story to your list of follows. As a newbie here, I truly appreciate it. Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy, Moonlight and Fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Archers at the ready! She may yet be out of range but don't take your eyes from due west!" Jaime cried out as the men lined up on the quarter deck. "Now, we wait."

Five days of exceptional winds and calm tides had come and gone when the captain sent a steward to awaken Jaime. He was pounding on their cabin door like a mad man, screaming, Sail!" They'd passed Baelish Keep before nightfall and were within twelve hours of Old Anchor. Jaime and Brienne sprang from their bunk and threw open the door.

"What is it?" he shouted.

"Sail milord! Thank the Gods for the full moon or we'd have not seen her 'till dawn!"

"How far off is she?"

"Maybe a mile. It's difficult to say. The clouds sir. They're stealing what little light we have."

"We'll be right there," Jaime said, slamming the door and rushing to dress. The sound of men in boots running on deck was so loud, they could feel the vibration through the floor boards.

"Who would be pursuing us?" Brienne asked, pulling on her pants and boots.

"There's only one explanation I can think of; Cersei."

"Cersei? Why now? You've been gone for months," Brienne said, fastening his breast plate.

"I don't know. Perhaps they've just finally caught up to us." Jaime turned and helped Brienne with her armor as well, and then buckled Widow's Wail at his waist. "We'll do our best to outrun them but whatever happens," he said, snatching her by the back of her neck, "I love you and I won't let them take me alive." He pressed his forehead to hers and then kissed her hard and fast.

Jaime hurried to the deck, while Brienne raced down the passageway to Sansa's cabin. The door was ajar, and she could hear Podrick telling Sansa to be strong. She pushed it open, just as Podrick pulled Sansa into his arms and kissed her. "Pod!" Brienne shouted, causing them to leap apart. "Lady Sansa, bar this door and don't open it until one of us returns!" Brienne turned and bolted from the room with Podrick close on her heels. They sped up the gangway to the deck, that was now covered in soldiers with archers at the ready.

"Where are they?" She shouted.

"Due west my Lady. The clouds will be our death if they don't give us some light soon," said a young seaman.

"How fast are we going?" Jaime asked, rushing to the captain.

"This is a merchant vessel, Ser Jaime. She's at seven knots. That's as fast as she'll go!"

"Archers at the ready! She may yet be out of range but don't take your eyes from due west!" Jaime cried out as the men lined up on the quarter deck. "Now, we wait."

"Are you certain they were pursuing us Captain?" Brienne asked.

"Of course, we cannot be sure my Lady, but as you saw, the only ships in White Harbor were the Dragon Queen's, all bearing her sigil. This ship has no banners on her sails. When a ship does not identify herself, in my experience they are either pirates or some band of militia."

"Which is worse?" Jaime asked.

"Both pirates and rogues will take what they want but pirates will take it and go. Rogues want the ship as well."

"That doesn't answer my question, but either way, they'll take nothing from us," Jaime said. His eyes widened and turned to Brienne's, finding them filled with concern.

"Captain look!" a man shouted from the crow's nest, pointing his spyglass due west. "We have the moon!"

Jaime turned and pushed his way through the archers to get a better look. The ship was no more than a mile behind them. "Easy men, we have some time. They're way out of range." He turned and walked back to the captain. "When we lose the moon again, we need to make ourselves disappear. If we can't see them, they can't see us either. How far is it to the turn to Old Anchor?"

"Two miles at most but…"

"But nothing. Get these sails down and I'll put my men on the oars. We'll be harder to spot without white sheets glowing in the moonlight."

"Yes, Ser Jaime. Brilliant." The captain gave the order to lower the sails the second the moon hid behind the clouds.

Jaime kept twenty archers on the quarterdeck and sent the rest of his men into the hull to row them towards Old Anchor.

"Won't this take longer?" Brienne asked.

"Sometimes the long way around is the right way or in this case, the only way. Add to that, it will buy us time to figure out how to best defend ourselves when they are within range of us."

"They'll not board this ship. We won't let that happen," Brienne said, pulling Jaime aside.

"I'm no sailor. I've never battled at sea. These men are all archers and infantry, Brienne. We'll simply do the best we can and trust our instincts," Jamie said through his teeth.

"Fire," she suddenly said, as if one has alit in her own mind. "It's the only way. We need to prepare the archers with oil for their arrows. Fire is the only means I know to stop them."

"Jaime nodded and turned to one of the crew. "I need oil for the archers. Get it up here, now!"

Brienne watched as the sails were lowered and tied off. She could feel the ship beginning to list to starboard as they came around the peninsula, headed towards Old Anchor. The ship began to slow without her sails, but she could hear the oars now hitting the water below.

"Every able hand, fill buckets of water and get them up on deck!" she called out to them. "They'll fight fire with fire of this I'm certain. We'll need to put those fires out before they take hold! And wet the sails! Any arrow hits that canvas, get those fires out first!"

"Extinguish all lanterns astern!" Jaime shouted, "We need to be as dark as the night."

"Dammit! Here comes the moon again!" Brienne screeched.

"Everyone down! Down below the rail!" Jaime called out, as they all dropped as low as they could on the deck.

"Is she yet there?" Jaime called up to the crow's nest when suddenly, he heard the woosh and thunk of a flaming arrow, and watched as the man fell backwards, and hit the deck with a splattering thud.

"Well, that answers my question," he murmured, raising his head just enough to see over the rail. The ship was no more than a hundred yards away. He crawled to the stairs of the quarterdeck and slammed his back against the bulkhead. "Archers! Light your arrows!"

The sound of twenty helmet visors slamming and the smell of arrows catching fire filled the night air. If that first arrow had been a warning shot, he was about to give them an answer they'd soon regret.

"Draw! Nock!" he bellowed. "Aim for her sails!"

Armor clanked and rattled loudly in harmony, as the men, still down on one knee, pointed their flaming arrows into the night, aiming directly at the pursuing ship. She was closing on them.

"Loose!" he roared, as the archers released in unison. Jaime rose to his feet and watched as the night sky was alit. His eyes followed the arrows until they struck the sails of the ship, immediately igniting them into flames. "Again!" he screamed, as the sound of return fire cut through the cold night air. "Shields!" he cried out, dropping face down onto the steps. The sound of at least thirty arrows thudding into wood and steel simultaneously, echoed in the night. The crew ran from cover quickly, dousing the fires and then raced to refill their buckets.

"Draw! Nock!" He raised his head again and shouted, but his men were already in position. "Don't wait for me!" Again, the burning arrows launched from their bows into the night, hitting their targets.

"Ser Jaime, she's slowing down!" the captain said, crawling on the steps to Jaime's side. "Might I suggest we get the sails back up and get us all the hell out of here?"

"We're not done yet! Draw! Nock!" Jaime roared again. "Take cover, captain. Those are Lannister soldiers. They'll fight until every last one of them is dead. I know. I trained them. Loose!"

Again, a flaming volley of arrows flew off into the ship. This time, when Jaime raised his head, the pursuing ship was engulfed in flames. "No mercy! Hit her again!" Jaime shouted, and hit her again they did, until at last, she was no more than a flickering flame on the horizon behind them.

"Jaime, we did it!" Brienne cried, rushing to him as he stood watching the ship fade out of sight.

"Captain, get these sails up and get us to Old Anchor before they send someone else."

"Ser Jaime, please allow me to thank you for saving my ship and everyone save poor Malcomb," the captain said, turning to see the young seaman as his crew mates carried his body away.

"Is anyone else injured?" Jaime inquired solemnly.

"Cuts and bruises, but nothing life threatening. We owe you all our lives." The captain backed away with a bow, and headed off to assess any damages.

"Thank you for putting out the fires my Lady," Jaime said to Brienne, giving her a sideways glance. "That was quick thinking on your part."

"I do what I can my Lord," she said with a tight-lipped grin. "I'm going below and give Lady Sansa the good news. I suppose we'll be in Old Anchor by mid-morning. Once we're all clear, I'll expect you back in our cabin. We've still a long journey ahead of us to reach the Eyrie and we both need some rest." Brienne turned to walk away and spied Pod, rushing down the gangway towards Sansa's cabin. She stopped suddenly and turned back to Jaime. "I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" Jaime spun around and asked, lowering his brow.

"When I went to warn Lady Sansa and retrieve Pod, they were locked in a rather passionate kiss," Brienne whispered.

"So, I was right all along? Is that what you're saying?" he smiled and tilted his head at her slightly.

"I'm not sure if I should discipline him, Jaime. I don't think this is going to end well for him," Brienne said. Her eyes were sad and filled with concern.

"Ah, the rocky road of forbidden love. We'd know nothing about that now, would we?" He smirked.

"Jaime, I simply mean…"

"Let them figure this out for themselves. I'm sure we can look the other way. Can't we?" Jaime asked, turning to walk away, then stopping to lean in and whisper to her. "Thank you again. You truly never cease to amaze me."

"Jaime? Jaime, wake up it's after sunrise," Brienne said, leaning up on her elbows to see the light, softly coming in the porthole of their cabin.

"Land ho!" she heard the cry from above deck and again, as it grew closer when the steward walked the passageway by the cabins with his announcement.

"Jaime, we've made it. We've reached Old Anchor," she said, falling back down onto her pillow and turning to face him.

"Thank the Gods," he groaned. "I hate ships. I hate sailing," he muttered. He still appeared to be somewhere between asleep and awake.

"Now there's something I didn't know about you. Imagine that. We've been at sea for a week and you're just now telling me this?"


	15. Moonlit Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello Sweet Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, a group of eight knights, clad in their shiny silver and blue, met them at the Bloody Gate and escorted them the rest of the way to the Eyrie. Formalities had not been lost on the Vale. Lord Robyn had been groomed in the old ways and tradition ran thick through his veins.

Midday arrived, as did they, in Old Anchor as planned, yet they still had a trek through rough terrain ahead of them. The chill was becoming almost as deep into their bones as it had been when they left Winterfell, which signaled winter's far reach into the south beyond their current position. Their camp sites were tight, for as the coal black cold easily slipped beneath their furs, as did the howl of dire wolves in the night. Fires must be tended and guards posted in shifts throughout the dark hours, for not only wolves roamed the Vale but mountain clans as well. The odds of convincing these wild and uncivilized clans that the dead were coming were as good as pissing on wild fire to put it out.

Jaime thought perhaps with their numbers, a clan would think better of attacking them but did not foolishly convince himself they wouldn't anyway. He recalled the story of his brother and Bronn's encounter with them. Tyrion had bribed them with weapons and glory, but Jaime had nothing to offer them to stem their raving blood lust over what they would deem tress-passers on their lands. Gods forbid they'd take a stag or boar and be caught with it on the spit. Seven blessings, they were within one day of the Bloody Gate and the knights of the Vale would soon reinforce their numbers.

This was their last night at the mercy of the cold blackness. Jaime and Brienne were entwined in furs, their naked flesh pressed tightly together for warmth. Their lovemaking had been quiet and gentle. They lay facing each other through most of it, locked in an embrace of both body and gaze. Too exhausted for the lusty and passionate fucking they enjoyed but too much in love and want of each other, not to be as close as two living bodies can be.

"I cannot wait for this night to be over," Brienne whispered against Jaime's shoulder and pulled the fur blanket up over her ear, nearly covering her head.

"This time tomorrow we'll be in a warm bed with silken sheets," he whispered back to her. "You'll be complaining the chamber is too warm and telling me to open a window shutter," he added over a soft laugh.

"Never. I'll never again complain it's too warm. I'll never complain about heat, or lumpy mattresses or anything for that matter."

"Anything? That's very good to know," he laughed again. "Are you warm enough right now?"

Brienne did not answer. He waited a moment and then felt her slow, rhythmic breathing against his shoulder. She'd fallen fast asleep. He looked upon her blond hair as it peeked out from beneath the fur. She was covered up to her closed eyelids. He couldn't resist touching her hair. It had grown quite a bit since they'd left Winterfell. It now fell in the swoop of a wave across her forehead and down to her chin like the wing of a white raven. He lifted his hand slowly and combed his fingers gently through it. He secretly hoped she'd never cut it again, only because he wanted to know what she would look like with it long. He didn't want to change her, nor a hair on her head. His reasoning was that he wanted to explore every side of her and prayed he'd live long enough to do so. He couldn't resist the urge to lean in and kiss the top of her head before he too drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, a group of eight knights, clad in their shiny silver and blue, met them at the Bloody Gate and escorted them the rest of the way to the Eyrie. Formalities had not been lost on the Vale. Lord Robyn had been groomed in the old ways and tradition ran thick through his veins.

No longer a sickly, sniveling, drip of a boy, the young Lord Robyn, was now filled out and strong. Although not skilled with the long sword, his prowess with a bow was well documented and he was touted as a champion of tournaments. The lad was of a good height and had grown into his prominent Tully features. Physically, he nearly matched his Lord father's stature but from the neck up, his mother Lysa lived on.

"Welcome Ser Jaime. We were getting worried you'd gotten lost in the Mountains of the Moon," Robyn said, taking his seat on his throne.

"No, not lost but the roads are quite narrow and the cliffs high."

"For good reason but, you're all here now. I'm sure you're all hungry and tired. We can talk formally in the morning after we break our fast. I've taken the liberty of having the cooks prepare quite a feast for your party. The advantages of height here are many. One of which is the view of everything and everyone who lies below. We've known for hours you were here. Come, let us sup and celebrate your safe arrival."

Lord Robyn clapped his hands and a gaggle of servants lead them all from the large main room through to the equally as large dining room. Lord Robyn hadn't given up anything but soldiers and the great dining hall depicted his lack of appreciation of what the North was about to face in lavish form. The room was alit as if the sun shown through every window and there was scarcely room for cutlery between the platters of meat and adornments. It appeared by all accounts, as well as Lady Sansa's expression of displeasure, that Robyn Aryn believed himself completely immune to the war.

"Lady Sansa, please come and sit by me. I want to hear everything about your journey to the Eyrie. Please, don't keep me suspense," Robyn said, waving her to the seat directly to his right. "My greatest regret is that due to my upbringing and my mother's overprotection of me as a child, I've never had the opportunity to travel beyond the Vale."

Sansa swept herself into the chair, assisted by Podrick, and a servant quickly arrived at her side to pour her a glass of wine. "Thank you Lord Robyn. There isn't much to tell really. It was very rugged and cold—mostly uncomfortable and exhausting."

"Ser Jaime, I never thought in a hundred years you'd ever be seated at my table. My cousin, the King, spoke highly of you and insisted I offer you and your Lady of Tarth our utmost hospitality. Having known nothing of you other than what the Maesters taught me in my lessons—well, nothing other than your family lineage and of course the slaying of the Mad King. Uncle Petyr never spoke of you. Uncle Petyr, my Lord step-father that is, or rather, was," Robyn remarked sarcastically, turning and giving Sansa a sideways glance as he took a sip of wine.

"Lord Robyn, I truly appreciate you allowing us to be here but please, let's not play games with our words, shall we? I'm sure you know of your Lord step-father's execution and the reasons behind it."

"Yes, I suppose I should thank you for ending the man who brutally murdered my dear mother. I hold nothing but gratitude in my heart to you and your sister for seeing him to swift justice."

"Things are as they should be now. You are the legal Lord of the Vale and heir to the Eyrie. I wish you every happiness here," Sansa replied, holding up her glass for a toast.

"I'm so happy to hear you speak of my happiness. I realize I am yet young and still have much to learn of the world, but one thing I do know is that I must soon take a wife. Unfortunately, due to all of the turmoil in the world and upturning of all of the noble houses, my prospects are very slim."

"Depending on the outcome of this great war my Lord, you may find your options wide open. Queen Daenerys has stated that once the wheel is broken, we should all be free to wed for love if we so choose, regardless of nobility and houses," Jaime remarked, placing his hand atop Brienne's on the table.

"Well, I see you've found both. That is a rare blessing in these troubled times my Lord," Robyn said, turning and glancing at Sansa. A half smile curled at the right corner of his mouth.

"Yes, we have," Jaime said, squeezing Brienne's hand as he turned and glanced lovingly at her.

"My Lord, have any ravens arrived for us?" Brienne inquired.

"Yes, several. I've had the scrolls placed in your rooms. My Maester has also sent one off to Winterfell, notifying the King of your safe arrival. Seven blessings to us all. Those dead bastards won't get us here. You're all safe in the Eyrie."

Everyone finished their meals, and were led off to their chambers for the night. Their rooms were warm and clean with fresh linens and scented candles. Roaring fires crackled in their hearths and even bathing tubs filled with steaming scented water awaited them. Sansa had spent quite some time at the Eyrie and knew of their passion for the finer things. It wasn't gold and flashy adornments that they enjoyed but comfort. She longed for comfort and she also longed for the company of the young squire posted outside of her door.

"Jaime, call me mad if you like but that boy hasn't the faintest idea what's happening out in the world," Brienne said, as she lay soaking in the warm bath.

Jaime sat next to her in a chair in only his trousers, gently brushing a soft sponge filled with lavender oil over her back and shoulders. "Your husband is giving you a luxurious bath for the first time in your life and you choose to discuss the ignorance of that boy?" he asked, gliding the sponge back and forth across her collar bones. "Really Brienne, you're stating the obvious as if no one else at that table knows this. Even Podrick's expression nearly sent me into hysterical laughter."

"Podrick's expression came from another place, Jaime. Only a fool couldn't see what Lord Robyn was hinting at."

"Lady Sansa is not going to be forced to marry Robyn, Brienne. We both know Jon would never force her to do anything she doesn't want, especially marriage. The girl never has to marry again if she doesn't want to. By law, she is or was, still married to my brother. However, since their vows were never consummated, I suppose with the swish of a Maester's quill, she'd be out of that arrangement. I'm sure my brother wouldn't contest it. He never wanted to marry her in the first place."

"He didn't?" Brienne asked, turning in the tub and placing her hands on the side as if she was about to leap out.

"My dead father pulled every string on Tyrion and Cersei. Of course, Cersei always managed to somehow untie the knots. Poor Tyrion however, did what was ordered of him. He never laid a hand on that girl. Tyrion is many things but a sadist, certainly not."

"How did you manage to escape your father's puppet strings for so long?" Brienne asked, her attention now fully turned to Jaime's every word and not the comfort of the sponge in his hand.

"There was a time when I was my father's only glimmer of hope for a future for the Lannister name. Then, Aerys named me to his King's guard out of jealousy of my father. Of course there were plenty of cousins but my Lord father was for years, convinced I'd leave the King's guard, take a wife and fill the halls of Casterly Rock with little lion cubs to carry on his legacy. Why are we talking about this?" He winced, dropping the sponge into the water.

"Little cubs," she said, smiling up at him.

"Yes," he replied, captured in her blue eyes as they reflected the fire's glow.

"And here we are, and he isn't around to see it. How sad for him," Brienne commented, placing her hand on Jaime's cheek. His eyes were lowered now, gazing into the bath water.

"I'm not sad for him anymore." Jaime's voice faded off and then he smiled, pushing his hand into the bathtub to find the sponge. Find it he did and began slowly rubbing it up the inside of Brienne's long legs and then up between them as he leaned over and kissed her.

"I believe it's your turn in the tub. You'd better get in before the water turns cold," she said. She rose naked from the water as his eyes followed her until she stood. "Help me out won't you darling?"

Jaime stood and took her hand as each long smooth wet leg stepped over the side of the tub. His erection was already straining against his trousers at the feel of her, let alone the sight. He leaned down slowly, never turning his eyes away and grabbed the long, warm, white bathing cloth from the floor near the hearth and wrapped it about her.

"Into the tub, you. I'll be waiting for you…just over there," she said in a breathy whisper, nodding her head at the beautiful pine four poster bed, covered in lush white sheets and a thick, burgundy comforter.

His hand flew to her waist, pulling her against him. His mouth crashed onto hers, open and wet with heat and wanting. He pawed at her like a hungry lion, tearing the bathing cloth away from her body and pushing his hand beneath the damp blond hair between her legs. He began rubbing her there, roughly before thrusting two fingers deep inside. "You're well wet for me my Lady," he growled between her lips, stroking her deeply as she snatched two handfuls of his now grown out hair, jerking back his head.

"Get in the bath," she growled back, nipping at his lip and pulling away. "Now."

Jaime dropped his pants and hit the bath with a splash, sending a spray of water all over the rug, which threw Brienne into ruckus laughter. Within less than a minute, he was washed and drying himself off. He turned and gazed upon her, lying on her side watching him, cross-ways on the bed. She was naked and glowing like the freshly fallen snow beneath moonlight. Her damp hair was tossed to one side and she'd not combed it but shaken it out between her fingers. It draped down beneath her chin in wet bunches of waves.

"The first time I saw you naked, you were at best barely half the man you are right now and yet you still appeared half a God to me. Can you even imagine what I see now?" Brienne asked, her heart quickening at the sight of him now prowling towards her.

"My Darling Lady, if you could imagine what I see before me, you'd see how true Gods are made."


	16. Chivalry and Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Sweet Robin. Half boy, half man, all a mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This, Night King, have you seen him? I've heard tales that he's ten feet tall and has burning blue eyes. Apparently, he's quite skilled with weapons as well, if he was able to take down a full-grown dragon. Have you seen the dragons?" Robin was now leaning forward and spoke wide eyed with adolescent vigor.

Robin awaited Jaime and Brienne in his chambers, having chosen a more private and informal meeting. At first, he summoned only Jaime, which incensed Brienne, but he quickly reminded her that no matter what that boy wanted, they'd arrive together or not at all. They were at war and the boy needed to understand that his ridiculous traditions and old ways were now pointless. Brienne was a warrior of the highest esteem, and Jaime wouldn't stand for her to be regarded as anything less.

All of their belongings had been washed and placed in their room just after dawn. The young woman who'd brought them also measured Brienne for new clothes. Jaime had already commissioned several gowns for her, keeping the promise he'd made and wasting no time in achieving it. Upon reminding her of that promise, he also informed her he'd ordered new night gowns and small clothes.

"New small clothes? What happened to nothing being between us when your insatiable lust overtakes your good sense?" She laughed.

He pursed his lips, and lowered his chin and answered, "Now you know I still enjoy a bit of a challenge." He was sitting in a chair opposite her as she rested on the bed, pulling on her stockings, and eyeing her so intently she could feel the thoughts behind his gaze.

"You're irredeemable, do you know that?" She smiled, glancing over at him and quickly put on her tunic and pants.

"What? Can't a man admire his wife when he wants to? That is one of my favorite marital privileges," he replied, falling back in the chair with a wounded expression that turned immediately into one of feigned insult. "It's those damned long legs. How can you expect me not to watch?"

"Those damned legs that make up nearly half my height you mean?" she scoffed.

"We're the same height when it matters my love," he purred with a devilish grin.

"I'm teasing you. Now get dressed. Lord Robin is expecting us." Brienne pulled on her boots and stepped to the mirror to comb her hair. Her reflection turned into their reflection, as Jaime stepped to her and embraced her from behind. "My hair is longer than it's ever been," she murmured, slashing through it with the comb.

Jaime reached out, taking the comb from her hand and gently pulled it through her blond mane several times. He watched in the mirror as it fell again in that white raven wing, and curled around her chin. "I think it's beautiful."

"I think you'd better comb your own." She smiled and flipped her fingers through her hair a few times and sighed. "Shall we go?"

Jaime turned and noticed the two scrolls sitting atop the wide pine dresser on a silver tray. "We forgot to read these," he said, picking one up addressed to him, and breaking the seal. His eyes scanned it, reading it to himself before reading it aloud to Brienne.

Ser Jaime,

Moles Town is a wasteland. Bran's ravens spied the Night King's army as everything in their way was razed to the ground by the undead Viserion. We received word however that nearly thirty of our men at the Wall survived, namely Gendry Waters, Tormund Giantsbane and Ser Beric Dondarrion. The rest, were various rangers and stewards. They were trapped upon the Wall west of Eastwatch until the dead passed. They're going to attempt to follow the dead south.

Samwell Tarley on behalf of King Aegon

"Winterfell still stands," Brienne said over a sigh.

"For now, but we'll have to ask Lord Robin when this raven came, to get a better idea of how long ago this was written."

"The other?" she asked, opening the seal of Tarth and reading it aloud.

To my dear daughter, I beg of you to return to Tarth. I received your letter of your marriage to the Kingslayer in White Harbor, and that you were taking Lady Sansa to the Eyrie. I am aware of your fondness for him and his past chivalry towards you, but you must know this is not going to end well. My Maester believes we can have this annulled and this whole business put behind you. I know you my daughter. I'm sure you're in the thick of this terrible war and I demand you return home.

Your Lord Father, Selwyn Tarth

"He demands I return. He still thinks I'm that pig headed, brash girl who sailed to Storms End so many years ago." She tossed the scroll into the fire, folded her arms tightly and stared off.

"Fathers love their daughters, Brienne. He's concerned about you. Obviously, he loves you and fears for your life," Jaime said, placing his hand on her shoulder and tilting his head to make her look at him.

"If he loves me then why didn't he have the decency to name you?" She said with a cry in her voice. "I am Lady Brienne Lannister, and until my father can treat you with the respect you deserve, I'll never set foot on Tarth again." Brienne wrapped her arms around Jaime's neck and kissed him gently. "I am your wife now, and no one or nothing will ever change that."

As they walked the long hallways of the Eyrie, on their way to Lord Robin's chambers, Jaime admired the beautiful marble work and how clean and pristine everything was. He commented on how he never knew there was marble in the Mountains of the Moon, and that it must have taken thousands of men and horses to carry it all.

"More than thousands I'm sure," Brienne commented. "This marble came all the way from Tarth."

"Are you certain?" Jaime asked, crinkling his nose in disbelief.

"The Arryn's spared no expense to build this fortress but yes, I'm completely certain."

"Well, here we are," Jaime muttered as they arrived at Robin's chambers. His guards announced them and then showed them through.

"Good morning. Did you have a restful sleep?" Robin asked, seated in a chair so large he appeared a child sitting in it.

"Yes, we did indeed my Lord. I was just admiring the fine architecture of your castle, and my Lady explained to me how all of this marble came from Tarth."

"It did? Why not even I knew that, but then again, when I walk in the woods, neither do I wonder who planted the trees."

Jaime turned his eyes to Brienne with a knowing look, and they both took their seats opposite Robin, in much more fitted chairs. "Lord Robin, may I inquire as to when the ravens came with our letters? I'm trying to establish a timeline of the progression of the war," Brienne said.

"Yes, my Lord. We'd like to keep abreast of our progress against the Night King," Jaime added.

"This, Night King, have you seen him? I've heard tales that he's ten feet tall and has burning blue eyes. Apparently, he's quite skilled with weapons as well, if he was able to take down a full-grown dragon. Have you seen the dragons?" Robin was now leaning forward and spoke wide eyed with adolescent vigor.

"My Lord, I have not seen the Night King, but I have seen one of his soldiers, if we can call them that," Jaime said, looking uncomfortably at Brienne.

"That's unfortunate. Oh, and to answer your question, the raven came less than a fortnight ago from Winterfell. The other from Tarth arrived less than a week ago. Regardless, we're happy to accommodate you for as long as necessary." Robin nodded. "Lady Brienne, since I no longer have my Lord Uncle Baelish here to advise me, might I have a few words alone with your husband to discuss some things of a more, personal nature?"

"But, I thought we would be discussing plans to defend the Eyrie against the dead, my Lord?" Brienne asked in surprise.

"I assure you my Lady, we are quite secure. My army is fully prepared to defend us. With these knew weapons you've brought us—dragon glass is it? As well as our own plans of forging this dragon glass into arrow heads, so that our archers may defend us at a distance, there really isn't much more to discuss." Robin smiled at Brienne but beneath his smile was an air of condescendence that she wanted to slap right off his face. "My Lady, my seamstress, Rowena, is awaiting you for a first fitting for your new clothes. One of my guards will escort you to her." Robin and Jaime both stood as Brienne shot to her feet, glaring at Jaime. They all bowed to each other and she was gone.

"Thank you for agreeing to stay for further counsel Ser Jaime. After careful consideration, as well as the increasing cold, we'll all be moving down to the Gates of the Moon by nightfall. I do apologize for the inconvenience, but we'll all die up here if we don't."

"Are you certain that is advisable, considering the safety of this height?" Jaime inquired.

"Should we find we are in any imminent danger from this dead army, we will have the Eyrie to fall back to. However, if we all freeze to death, we won't bother about the dead then, will we?" Robin said, leaning forward.

Robin liked to talk. Robin liked to listen to himself speak, and believed himself quite clever when speaking on all matters and activities he enjoyed. Jaime made himself comfortable and simply nodded and smiled, unless an answer was required. He repeated Sweetrobin, Sweetrobin, over and over in his head as the boy spoke, imagining this self-important young man as the un-weaned, seizure plagued child he'd heard stories about years before. The same child his own lord father had offered to take on as a ward. Perhaps Tywin may have made a difference in the boy's life. Perhaps the boy's weaknesses might have annoyed him, and he'd have ended up back in the Eyrie or worse. After many minutes of archery and horse chat, Lord Robin finally broke ground on his true purpose of their meeting.

"Ser Jaime, I'm not one for word games nor have I been gifted nor trained in the art of diplomacy. As you've seen, here in the Eyrie, I am surrounded by servants, soldiers and Maesters. Uncle Petyr was my only true friend and he killed both my parents. I suppose it's a miracle I've managed to overcome it all. Of course, I do take credit for my own accomplishments but there's so much more to learn."

"What are you asking me, Robin?" Jaime asked, lowering his brow.

"I want Sansa's hand. I want a wife and since Sansa is older and more experienced, having been wed twice before, she's the perfect wife for me. I've admired her beauty since I was a boy…"

"You're still a boy a Robin," Jaime interrupted. "You're still a boy with far too much to learn. As a matter of fact, if you started today—right this instant, it would still take you a lifetime to measure up to Sansa Stark."

"I beg your pardon Ser. I am the Lord of this castle and..."

"And you asked my advice and I'm giving it. I'm not one to play at words either, Robin. Why don't we worry about the war for now and perhaps if we win, you can find a bride who's more your match."

"I see what you're implying Ser, but I assure you, I can offer her more than any young Lord in Westeros. I can practically give her the Moon itself! How dare you imply I'm not fit for her!"

Jaime's face twisted into an expression one could only describe as a clenched fist, and he raised his golden hand. "Do you know how I lost my hand?" he hissed.

"The Bolton's cut throats cut it off." Robin sneered.

"Perhaps I didn't phrase that correctly. Do you know why I lost it?" Jaime said softly, drawing out his words like a sword from its sheath, and leaning further forward towards Robin, who was now sliding back into his chair.

"Two reasons; the first being chivalry. You see, I've been a knight since I was the same age you are now. Unfortunately, for many reasons, I'd broken almost every vow I ever took for the name, Lannister…and a few other reasons we don't need to discuss right now. However, even after having been imprisoned by the Starks, beaten, starved half to death, and captured by the Boltons, only to watch that magnificent woman, whom you just dismissed from this room as if she were some common wench by the way, dragged off screaming in the dark to be raped by five of the foulest creatures ever born, I found there was still some shred of those vows left in me. Chivalry. I lied to save her honor and I'd give my other hand if need be—yes, I'd do it again but that's not why Locke took my hand. He took it because despite all of that, I was still a spoiled, selfish cunt who believed my name and my father's gold could make it all go away. This," Jaime growled, "This was the only thing that went away that night, and all because I was stupid enough to believe that my name and my father's gold meant something to someone other than me."

Jaime's eyes were wild with contempt. Suddenly, the fog of his memory cleared, to find Robin, shrunken into his oversized chair in horror. In his anger, Jaime didn't realize he was now standing over the boy, with his golden hand mere inches from Robin's prominent nose.

"Ser Jaime, please. I didn't mean to upset you but attacking the Lord of a Castle where you have taken refuge is punishable by banishment," Robin whimpered, as Jaime began backing away slowly and coming to his senses.

"Apologies, Lord Robin. I can assure you, I will neither attack nor strike you, ever. You asked for counsel and that was my first offer of advice to you."

"Advice is not a maddened lecture, Ser," Robin replied, straightening his tunic and sitting upright in his chair. "However, passion in a man is a trait to be admired. I've only ever found passion in anger. My Lord Uncle assisted me with bringing my quick temper under control and channeling it into something more constructive; my archery. What lesson am I to take from this, other than you regret your chivalry?"

Now calm and seated, and having reclaimed his resolve, Jaime answered, "The lesson was two-fold; regardless of the cost, chivalry is not a choice, it's an instinct. Secondly, it took for me to lose my sword hand to understand that names and houses and rich fathers cannot defend you from a mad man with a big knife. Don't ever believe simply because you're the Lord of a castle, that title makes you better than any man or that, that other man won't take more than just your hand if he's in a position to do it."

"So, you're telling me by losing your hand, you saw yourself for what you truly were for the first time?"

Jaime looked down at his hand and then back up at Robin's anxious expression. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. All the gold in the world can't replace my hand. Nor can it buy you a woman like Lady Sansa, and it never will. That girl will never be bought nor sold again."

"Thank you for your candor, Ser Jaime but only King Aegon will have the final say in my request for Lady Sansa's hand. He has five thousand of my men at his disposal and his beloved cousin is here, with me." Robin stood and smirked. "Well, it's time for my training. Will you join me in the yard for a bit of sparring? I suppose I'm about as good with my right hand as you are with your left, and I'm sure archery is out of the question," Robin quipped.

"I assure you my Lord, my left is now my right as well, and as for archery, a skill I've long admired. However, I've always preferred to be close enough to look into my opponent's eyes when the light goes out. Striking from such a distance just takes all of the fun out of it. Good day my Lord," Jaime said with a smile and bow, and swept from the room like a ghost.

"Brienne," Jaime called out as he opened the door to their chamber. His blood was still coursing through his veins like a raging river when he hit the door to their chamber and slammed it hard behind him.

Brienne was standing in the mirror, admiring her first new gown as Rowena huddled on the floor beside her, startled from sewing her hem. "Seven Hells Jaime Lannister! Do you want the poor thing to stick me?" she shouted at him.

"Rolina or whatever your name is…" Jaime barked.

"It's Rowena, Jaime," Brienne interrupted.

"Rowena, may I please have a word with my wife?" Jaime bellowed and stood with his hand on his hip.

"I'll call for you later dear," Brienne said, helping the girl up from the floor.

Rowena quickly cut loose her needle and thread, snatched her sewing basket and raced around Jaime and out the door.

"Poor girl. What's wrong with you?" Brienne asked, holding up her skirt and walking towards him.

"That…that sniveling little shit. He had the nerve to ask my advice on marrying Sansa."

"I hope you told him there was no way her cousin would condone the match; not to mention her recent activities with Pod." Brienne's voice trailed off and she sighed. "Come sit down and let me pour you a glass of wine."

He swallowed hard and began fumbling with his belt roughly, trying to remove Widow's Wail. "I don't need any wine!" he shouted, tossing the belt and sword to the floor.

"Jaime, what the…" she barely spoke when he was upon her.

"I only need you." He was pulling her tightly into his arms, kissing her hard and holding forcefully to her as he walked her backwards towards the bed. His hand skated roughly over the silken fabric of her new half-finished gown, pulling and tearing it away from her shoulders and pushing her backwards down onto the mattress. "Please, don't tell me you're wearing small clothes," he whispered through his teeth as he tore away his trousers and pushed them to his knees.

Brienne broke into a roar of laughter at him stumbling to undress. She looked up at him and said, "No, why?" continuing to laugh through her words.

"As you can see," he grunted in frustration, his tunic half over his head, appearing to be ensnared by his own clothes. "I'm not in the mood for a challenge!"


	17. The Mother's Hymn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories...light the corners of my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She slammed the book closed and sat it next to her on the bed. "Yes. In King's Landing, all I had were dreams."

Everyone, save twenty guards and a few servants, made the move from the Eyrie down to the Gates of the Moon. Robin repeated that this was the winter tradition as due to its great height, it was nearly impossible to keep warm in the clouds. A signal system was set up to warn the guards on the ramparts of the Gates of the Moon. Fire. Fire was always the best warning except for incoming arrows and soldiers but by then, it's always too late.

Podrick escorted Sansa through a long passageway to her chamber and she insisted to the handmaid, that Podrick have the room directly next to hers, citing she wouldn't feel safe otherwise. The woman curtsied, shielding a smile, and went to work preparing his room. She'd made an effort to start a fire for Sansa but Pod shewed her off and insisted on doing it himself.

"Thank you, Pod. It appears someone's been at work preparing this place. It's clean and cozy and that's all I really need," Sansa said, as she placed her few personal items on the dresser and began looking through the small bookcase near her bed.

Pod rose to his feet and dusted off his soot covered hands. "All you need?" he asked, stepping slowly towards her.

She ignored him spitefully but with a smirk laden smile, and opened the book. It was a book of poems and songs. She grew sullen for a moment, remembering how she used to love to sing, until Joffrey's guards beat the voice out of her. Then sadness overtook her, when she turned the page to find The Mother's Hymn. It was as if she were alone in the room with that page. She ran her fingers softly over the words a line a time and sang them in her mind. She'd not thought of either the song or the last time she'd sung it, nor who she'd sung it for, in years. She did remember the night vividly, or so she believed only now, a grown woman, she was able to separate truth from a young girl's fantasy, and touched her lips.

"He never hurt me, nor did he kiss me," she mumbled to herself.

"Who?" Podrick asked.

"Who, what?" she answered.

"Who neither hurt you nor kissed you?" His head was cocked to one side, waiting breathlessly for her answer.

"Oh, no one. This song, it reminded me of a dream I had many years ago."

"Just a dream then?"

She slammed the book closed and sat it next to her on the bed. "Yes. In King's Landing, all I had were dreams."

Podrick walked to her and sat down beside her. He took her hands in his and said, "My Lady, as long as I am here, no one will hurt you."

"I grew so accustomed to pain that I didn't care about protection; at least not the violent kind. Lord Tyrion protected me as best he could, but once Joffrey died and Lord Baelish sunk his claws into me, I never felt safe again, until the night you and Lady Brienne found me and Theon in the woods. Then, when Ramsey died…"

"Everyone who's ever hurt you is dead. You have to take some refuge in that my Lady," Podrick said, pulling her hands to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Everyone but Cersei."

"Once the dead are defeated, Cersei will be next. We both know her death is the only thing that will stop her."

Sansa was half in the room and half back in Kings Landing. Since moments before when Sandor had crept into her memories, he was still there, standing in front of her like some specter. As a girl, her dreams of knights and ladies and love were replaced by lies and hate and pain, except when she remembered Sandor, she thought of only her sadness for him and not of herself. She could still smell the sweat, blood and rum, not only from memory but also from the cloak that she still possessed, still stowed away in her room back in Winterfell.

"Can I get you anything? I heard Lord Robin telling the servants to prepare supper immediately, but if you aren't up to dining with everyone, I can have your supper brought here. We can eat alone," Podrick said, at last capturing her full attention.

"Yes, thank you. I think I'd much prefer eating in here; perhaps indefinitely. I'd also like to send a Raven to Jon, I mean, Aegon. Seven Hells I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

"You go on ahead and write your letter. I'll see to our supper." Pod leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and then stepped out of the room.

Sansa began to cry. Brienne had told her that Sandor was alive and well but he was stationed with the Free Folk at the Wall—the Wall that fell at Eastwatch. She hurried to her desk to write the letter to Aegon and to ask if Sandor had survived the attack on the Wall or even if there was word of him either way. She had no knowledge of Aegon's correspondence to Jaime, as neither he nor Brienne had had time to discuss the letter prior to them moving.

"What am I doing?" she asked aloud, tearing the parchment into small pieces and tossing them in the fire. "My cousin will think me mad for asking after The Hound."

Internally, she was asking herself why she was crying. The sadness that had overtaken her upon the thought of Sandor dying came on her by surprise, with no explanation or reason. His face was hideously scarred. He was a killer and confessed to enjoying it. He was hateful and bitter, and had been coarse and rough with her, especially the night of the Blackwater. He'd also saved her life on several occasions. He'd never hurt her. He would never hurt her. Her head swam in the ocean of memories that flooded her from head to foot. "Stop," she said firmly and aloud. As recently as first light that morning, as she lay curled into Podricks chest as she slept, she believed she was falling in love with him. She was content and safe and at times, even happy. Podrick was handsome and strong. He doted on her day and night and made love to her tenderly when she needed tenderness and passionately when she needed passion. She was crying. She fell down onto the bed, sobbing. "I did not love Sandor. Had I loved him I'd have gone with him that night when he asked me to. I'd have felt his absence and inquired about him, even searched for him. Perhaps this is fondness or pity or just some cruelty of the Gods back again to haunt me."

She fell silent. Within moments she had cried herself into a deep sleep. When Podrick arrived back in her chamber, he pulled her blanket over her. He stroked her hair gently and then went to his post outside her door.

"Will Lady Sansa be joining us for dinner?" Brienne asked, upon arriving at her chamber.

"She's asleep. She seemed bothered by something and when I returned from telling the servants she wanted supper in her room this evening, she was asleep."

"Bothered by what?" Brienne asked with a quizzical look.

"I'm not sure my Lady. She was reading a book and suddenly fell melancholy. Shall I have her call on you when she awakens?"

"No but come and find me. I'd like to speak with her," Brienne said. She started to turn when Podrick spoke.

"My Lady, if you don't mind me saying so, you make a very lovely woman."

Brienne looked down at her new blue gown and smiled. "I'll accept that as a compliment, Pod."

"I really thought you were much thicker…the armor and all that I guess."

Brienne lowered her brow for a moment, and then remembered Podrick's endearing candor and genuine naiveté when he spoke. The only thing she could summon to say was, "Yes, the armor. Well, unfortunately, Ser Jaime and I do not have the luxury of dining in our chamber so I'll be on my way. Good evening, Pod."

Podrick bowed to her and she headed down the corridor. Jaime was dressed so finely that he drew a wide smile from her, simply by standing before her when she met him at the end of the hall. Her steps quickened the closer she came to him until upon reaching him, she took him in a firm embrace and kissed him deeply. "Do you know you're the most handsome man I've ever laid my eyes on?" she purred into his ear.

"I tell myself that every night when I look in the mirror my love," he said with a smile in his voice.

"Oof! You're hopelessly in love with yourself, aren't you? Why the Gods chose to bless you with a wife I have no clue," she said, pinching his side through his rust colored leather tunic.

"Well, I suppose since I have no heir, they took pity on me and sent me you," he said, taking her hand and kissing her again.

Brienne swallowed hard and cleared her throat. It had been six weeks since her last moon blood. With so much happening and their journey to the Vale, she imagined Jaime hadn't noticed that she had not fended off his affections during that time, because he hadn't mentioned it. She imagined men didn't think about such things, and were simply gratefully enjoying their lustful inclinations unencumbered by a week of hearing, "No, it's my time."

"Brie?" Jaime asked, tugging at her hand to go. She smiled and took his arm.

Dinner consisted of Robin's tales of his archery tournaments and his prowess as a hunter. He asked a lot of questions as well and Jaime was as accommodating as he could be. Robin's curiosity was his best quality, although there were few. Curiosity is a sign of intelligence and what Robin lacked in social skills when relating to others, he made up for in his vast knowledge of realm he'd never even been able to explore.

Jaime turned to Brienne and gave her a look to say he was ready to go, when suddenly, a guard stomped into the room and stopped at attention in the doorway. "Ser Jaime, a rider has arrived. We've detained him in the cells. He claims he knows you and that you'll be happy to see him again."

Jaime rose to his feet and looked down at Brienne curiously, and then back at the guard. "Did he say his name perchance?" Jaime asked, appearing confused and concerned all at once.

"No my Lord. When I asked his name, he said…pardon my Lady…you still owe him a fookin' castle."


	18. Who We Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many decisions. Is it possible to love more than one person or do you love the one you're with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No. I said he didn't hurt me. He'd never hurt me. I was just a girl and I didn't know what to do or think. Afterward he let me go and told me he'd take me home to Winterfell if I wanted, and that if anyone tried to hurt me, he'd kill them. And then, he cried."

Jaime's boots hit the stone floor hard as he was led to the cells beneath the Gates of the Moon. His mind swam with thoughts as to why Bronn had chosen to find him and how he managed to escape Cersei's soldiers in order to get there. His wondering ceased abruptly when he found himself standing outside of the heavy steel cell door, with nothing separating him and Bronn but a key, a lock and a small barred window.

"Bronn, what are you doing here?" Jaime asked gruffly through the bars.

"I suppose I could ask you the same question but I'd rather you just get me the fuck out of here. I'm freezing, starving and to be honest, I could use a drink," Bronn answered, staring back at him.

"Open this door," Jaime ordered the guard.

The guard opened the door and Jaime took a step back away from his old companion, still unsure as to why he'd traveled to find him.

"Not happy to see your old friend then?" Bronn asked. "No need to back away brother. I know I stink but I can't kill ye with that now can I—not that I came here to do that."

"Then why are you here?" Jaime glared at Bronn in the dank darkness. The torchlight some six feet away hardly gave him enough light to discern what was in Bronn's eyes.

"Ye left me alone with that mad bitch and ye wonder what brought me to find you? Now that's an interesting question. She already wanted my head and the second I heard you left, I figured it was only a matter of time before she kept that promise. It ain't much but it's my head and I'm rather fond of it."

"So, you're telling me you want to fight for the Dragon Queen?" Jaime's words were stretched and full of apprehension and doubt.

"No, I'm telling ye I didn't want me head chopped off by that creature she orders around but since there's no one left who's looking for a sell-sword, I might as well be among friends." Bronn smiled, hooking his thumbs in his belt and puffing out his chest.

"How did you find me?"

"When I reached a sweet little castle—Cerwyn, I believe it was. I took a brief respite with a group of men headed north who said they heard tale that you'd be headin' to White Harbor to get a ship going to Old Anchor. The Eyrie was the obvious place to hide or at least, keep the ladies safe. Listen Jaime, I'd love to continue this conversation but I haven't eaten in two days. Ye can trust me. You know that," Bronn said. His voice lowering as he spoke.

"Trust you, even though I can't pay you?"

"Times are tough. Prices have hit an all-time low. A hot meal and a few mugs of ale will buy ye a lot of trust, as well as information for your King Snow and the Dragon Queen."

Jaime led Bronn up into the castle. He ordered the servants to find Bronn a room and to supply him with everything he'd need for the night. They walked and talked until they reached Bronn's chamber. Before he left Bronn, he turned and said, "I need to sort out some things. I'll come to you in an hour or so. Don't go exploring until I've had a chance to speak with Lord Robin…and my wife."

"Yer wife?" Bronn's eyes flew open like two shutter doors in a gale wind and he leaned back on his heels. "Two months away from Cersei and you've gone and married some wench on the road?" Bronn chuckled and shook his head. "Well I gotta hand it to ye brother, you're not getting' any younger and the world may be endin' soon. Workin' fast is a smart move on your part." Bronn pumped his brows as Jaime stood with a flat, emotionless expression.

"Not a wench," Brienne commented, approaching them. Jaime's expression changed swiftly to a smile, knowing she was upon them. "If it isn't Ser Bronn of the Blackwater." Brienne was still in her blue gown, the very picture of a noblewoman. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence?"

"Lady Brienne of Tarth, or is it, Lady Lannister, you're looking very…ladylike." Bronn said with a bow. "I saw this ye know. I saw it the first time I saw you both in the same air. Well, congratulations my Lady, I think."

"Thank you, Ser Bronn. Now, if I may have my husband for a bit, we'll leave you to get settled," Brienne said, taking Jaime by the arm.

Bronn leaned in to Jaime's ear, "Ye better go brother. I hear that one can kick yer ass." He clicked his tongue in his cheek and turned on his heel, following a servant girl carrying a tray of food into his chamber with a wink.

Jaime turned to Brienne and said, "Don't worry. I believe we can trust him. He has nothing left to fall back on anymore."

"I suppose you'd better speak to Lord Robin. I'm certain he's already aware of Bronn's arrival. You'll need to sort that out." They began walking slowly back towards the hallway that led to their chambers and stopped at the stairway leading up to Lord Robin's solar. "I'm going to speak with Lady Sansa and inform her of the letter we received from Winterfell. I'm certain it will lift her spirits to know that Aegon and Winterfell are still standing."

Jaime slid his hand up over her cheek and kissed her. "Wench, do you know how much I adore you?"

She matched his gesture and said, "I believe I do."

Brienne stopped at her chamber to retrieve the letter from Winterfell and then carried on down the long hallway to Sansa's room. She tapped lightly on the door and Podrick answered, appearing to be rubbing sleep from his own eyes. "Yes my Lady?" he said.

"Is Lady Sansa awake?"

"Yes my Lady, please come in." Podrick held the door open and Brienne found Sansa sitting at the small round table, finishing her supper.

"Lady Sansa, I can come back later if you wish."

"Hello Brienne. No, please come in. Pod, can you give Lady Brienne and I some time alone?"

"Yes my Lady," he said, and bowed from the doorway, closing the door behind him.

"Lady Sansa, there was a Raven from Winterfell."

"Oh please! May I see it?" Sansa's voice was filled with excitement about word from her home and her cousin. She took the letter from Brienne's hand and unrolled it. Her eyes scanned it. She swallowed hard and let the scroll curl in upon itself before she stood. "So, for now, they're all still alive at Winterfell?"

"So it seems my Lady," Brienne answered, finding a peculiar disappointment in Sansa's expression. "Are you all right my Lady?"

"Yes, I'm so happy they're all still well and that many of the men at the wall have been spared." Sansa forced a smile and then handed the letter back to Brienne.

"Podrick said you were reading earlier and you fell melancholy. Is there anything you'd like to talk about? I assure you, I'm a very good listener and even better, I'm as silent as the grave."

"I suppose it would do me well to trust in you. You're the closest person to a friend I have and I do believe you will understand what's been weighing on me this afternoon, perhaps better than most. I believe regardless of your expertise with a sword and strength as a fighter, I see a romantic heart and spirit in you. I hope you don't mind me saying that."

"Not at all my Lady. I'd say you've pegged me quite well actually," Brienne said with a shy smile.

"I don't know where to begin." Sansa murmured, sitting back down at the table opposite Brienne. She was clutching an old, stained, ragged handkerchief.

"Why don't you begin with what upset you today."

"Yes, that's a good place I suppose." She took a long deep breath and paused, staring down at the handkerchief. "I found a book of songs and poems and began leafing through it. Back in Winterfell, I loved to sing. I sang all the time. I sang a little in Kings Landing but once I was promised to Joffrey and he killed my father, things began to change." She paused again.

"It's all right my Lady, it's only us. Go on," Brienne said softly, placing her hand atop Sansa's.

"When I displeased Joffrey, he would order his guards, mostly Ser Meryn, to beat me or even simply strike me. All but one followed his orders. I feel silly talking about this now." She said, pulling her hand away and standing, then pacing across the room.

"One guard wouldn't strike you. He sounds like an honorable man. I'm surprised King Joffrey didn't have his head for disobeying him," Brienne said firmly with a sneer.

"Joffrey would never take the head of his hound. That would have been foolish on his part. He was the strongest, most powerful man in the Kings Guard."

"The Hound? The Hound wouldn't strike you?"

"No. He was…" she paused, rubbing the handkerchief between her fingers gently. "He never hurt me. He protected me and more than once, he saved my life."

Brienne was confused yet pleased all at once. She knew how the Hound had protected Arya and tried to return her to her family. She had no idea he'd been protective of Sansa as well and even kind to her. "So, he was kind to you?"

"He scared me terribly at first. As you know, at first glance, his scars can be rather unnerving and difficult to look at. At times, even when I knew he wouldn't hurt me, he did frighten me. He cornered me in the hallway near my chamber at the Red Keep and bid me to sing for him. He'd been drinking and he was close—closer than he should have been. Lord Tyrion found us and ran him off." She paced back and forth as she spoke, looking over at Brienne occasionally to affirm a statement or to make sure she was making sense.

"He was always going on and on to me about how stupid and foolish I was to believe in knights and ladies and dreams of being a queen. He hated knights. He even said every man I knew was a killer and that my own sons would be killers as well, so I'd better get used to looking at them and get out of my dream world. As time went on, he seemed to always be there, watching me; especially when I was alone."

"If he was Joffrey's guard, why do you think he was always there watching you?"

Sansa sighed and sat back down at the table. "To protect me. He once said someday when I was queen, I'd thank him for being the only thing that stood between me and Joffrey. Joffrey was a monster; a cruel, sadistic monster." She held the handkerchief to her nose and sniffed as tears began to well in her eyes.

"So, why today? What made you think of all this?" Brienne asked.

"The Mother's Hymn."

"The Mother's Hymn. Why?"

"The night of the Blackwater, when Lord Tywin's army rode in with the Tyrells and beat Stannis, I ran all the way back to my chamber. In the darkness, I didn't see him there. He was laying in my bed…Ser Sandor." Her eyes shot up at Brienne but they weren't tear filled any longer. There was a glimmer in them.

Brienne's posture still immediately stiffened, pushing her forward over the table. "Did he hurt you?" she asked, her eyes wide with anger.

"No! Well, he frightened me. I thought the room was empty. He'd been drinking. He was covered in blood and he smelled of battle sweat and sour wine. He…held me down and demanded a song again. He called me his little bird. He always called me little bird since I'd first arrived at Kings Landing. I wanted to sing a different song but I couldn't remember the words. The only song I could remember was The Mother's Hymn."

Brienne relaxed back into her seat. "He didn't…"

"No. I said he didn't hurt me. He'd never hurt me. I was just a girl and I didn't know what to do or think. Afterward he let me go and told me he'd take me home to Winterfell if I wanted, and that if anyone tried to hurt me, he'd kill them. And then, he cried."

Brienne fell silent. A knot grew in her throat. Her mind settled and as people often do when faced with a tale of such woe, she imagined what Ser Sandor must have been thinking or rather feeling in that moment. Then she asked, "How do you know he cried?"

"I couldn't see his eyes in the darkness but, I reached up and touched his face and felt his tears. Then he was gone."

"You pitied him. Of course you did. How could you not pity a man who was so broken and battle worn that a song would bring him to tears?"

"He tore off his kings guard cloak and tossed it to the floor. When he left, I slept in it. I wrapped myself in it and it gave me comfort. The only honorable man left in Kings Landing was gone. He'd wanted to save me from my torment and I turned him away."

"Sansa, you were just a girl, a young girl who'd been bullied and abused. You didn't confuse Ser Sandor's intentions with you for more than that, did you?"

Sansa's eyes took on a far away, almost dreamlike appearance as she spoke now. Her eyes were filed with remembrances and regret. "For years, I told myself he'd kissed me goodbye. I could feel his powerful, sour kiss on my lips, hard and rough. I'd imagined it again and again until I believed it was true. I imagined had he been lovely and unscarred, I'd have run away with him that night."

Brienne was taken aback yet intrigued by Sansa's confession. She stayed silent and allowed her to finish reliving her experiences, both real and imagined.

"He was right you know. He was right all along. I was a silly, stupid girl who's silly stupid dreams of a beautiful gallant knight like Ser Loras, sweeping me off my feet. We'd go and live in his beautiful castle at Highgarden. I was a fool to believe Tywin Lannister would ever let that happen. Of course Ser Loras could never have loved me anyway." She paused again and poured herself a cup of wine. After a long drink she continued.

"Sandor never knew love. He never knew anything but abuse, torture and blood. I believe in his own way, the only way he knew how, he loved me and had I not been that silly girl, I could have easily loved him back. He was a true knight and he didn't even know it. I certainly didn't see it any more than he did. I was too busy seeing his scars to see his heart."

"But my Lady, a man like that could never…"

Sansa's eyes shot up at her. "Could never what? Have someone like me? Am I some great prize? Look what I had Brienne. Look what was worthy of me." Sansa stared at Brienne for a long time waiting for an answer and then said flatly, "People show love the only way they know how."

Brienne sat silently, remembering her beginnings with Jaime. Everything they'd been through flashed before her eyes. Him saving her from being raped by the Bloody Mummers, jumping into the bear pit, Oathkeeper, her armor, allowing her to cross battle lines to speak with the Blackfish, the way he'd looked at her when she rode off to find Sansa and the wave to her in the night from the ramparts of Riverrun. How he'd been so hateful and crass with her and called her ugly and a beast of a woman. Everything she'd lived through until Jaime was free to find his true self. Sansa was right. She finally spoke. "We don't choose who we love. My Lady, you are worthy of so much. I cannot tell you how everything will end or if you'll find happiness, true happiness but I can tell you that you are worthy of love, whatever face it's wearing."

"It's too late for me. I know that now. I can be sated by pleasure and tenderness and brief glimmers of joy but love has escaped me because of my own childish dreams. I have more important things to worry about anyway." She stood again and picked up the book of poems and songs. She flipped through it and then pushed it back into the book shelf.

Brienne stood and walked to Sansa and took her by the hands. "My dear lady, look at me. All my life I wanted to be a knight and I may yet be but life has different plans for us. Sometimes it takes a very long time before it shows us our truth." Brienne placed her hand over her abdomen and smiled.

"Lady Brienne, are you?" Sansa's eyes widened and a smile lit up her solemn expression.

Brienne nodded and smiled back at her. "I think so. It's been six weeks since my last moon blood. I suppose I should see the Maester before I tell Jaime. I want to be completely certain. I know he wants children. I just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon."

"I'm truly happy for you both." Sansa embraced Brienne and then fell solemn again. She turned and walked across the room. She stared down at the handkerchief and said, "I'm surprised I'm not late as well but Pod and I have been very careful."

"Speaking of Pod," Brienne said, following Sansa. "He truly loves you, you know."

"He does, and I believe I may love him as well. He's been more than I could have ever asked for." Sansa looked up from her hands and said, "If I knew what love truly was, I suppose I would know for sure. Hopefully someday I will."

When Brienne finally arrived back at her chamber, Jaime was asleep. She moved quietly to undress in the firelight. The room was warm and welcoming. It was so quiet, she could hear nothing more than the snap and crackle of the burning wood and the low, steady breathing of her husband. She pulled back the sheet and coverlets on their bed and slid as gently as she could beneath them so as not to wake him. She lay there with her right arm tucked beneath her pillow and her left hand pressed beneath her right cheek for several minutes, admiring her husband's handsome face. So perfect she thought to herself. Even with his year lines and small faded scars, he was still the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She wondered if she could have loved him if he bore the external scars of Sandor Clegane, as she bore the internal scars of the mockery she'd endured as a girl, still finding herself inside her height and what some deemed her plainness and masculine demeanor. She knew she could. Hearts fall in love, not faces.

Jaime had scars as well that she had only just begun to see. Everyone did. Everyone had a story beneath the surface. The strongest people she knew where battle worn but lying there in that moment, she believed she was at both her weakest and strongest when she looked at Jaime. With him, she was defenseless yet she'd killed for him and she'd die for him as well.

She began drifting off to sleep when she felt his hand at her hip, pulling her close to him. _The safest place in the world. The most dangerous place in the world._


	19. Loyalty and Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I apologize for this short chapter. I needed to set up Chapter 20 which will most likely run a little long. Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone who has chosen to join me in this labor of love. Things are about to get pretty intense, and I want to give you my best but I want it to be a cinematic read that keeps you coming back for more so we'll see!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ser Jaime, Lady Brienne, it is not a habit of mine to bypass Lord Robin for such correspondence, but when I went to his solar this morning, I noticed two other letters which came before we moved down from the Eyrie that hadn't even been read. The seal wasn't even broken," Maester Colemon said.

A week had now passed since they'd arrived in the Vale, and yet another raven came from Winterfell. The Maester noted the Targaryen seal and although addressed to Lord Robin, he hand delivered it to Jaime. He and Brienne had only just finished breaking their fast and were discussing a meeting with Lord Robin about provision and weapons stores. Jaime needed to be completely certain that Robin was following through on his word to forge the dragon glass into arrow heads. and make sure as many soldiers as possible carried the daggers they'd brought for them.

Jaime invited Maester Colemon into their chamber to discuss the letter and why he'd brought it to them instead of Robin.

"Ser Jaime, Lady Brienne, it is not a habit of mine to bypass Lord Robin for such correspondence, but when I went to his solar this morning, I noticed two other letters which came before we moved down from the Eyrie that hadn't even been read. The seal wasn't even broken," Maester Colemon said.

"Who were they from?" Jaime asked, breaking the seal on this one.

"One came from King Aegon and the other, from your sister, the Queen." Maester Colemon lowered his head.

Jaime unrolled the scroll and began to read.

_Lord Robin Arryn,_  
We did not receive a response to our last letter. However, Ser Jaime did respond that they'd arrived safely. Our last letter was to warn you that Queenscrown was no more and to remind you that the army of the dead does not adhere to the roads. They've scattered amongst the lands. Although rivers and lakes give them pause, the northern waterways have already begun to freeze over. We thank you for the reinforcements, but we fear your household and guests are still at risk. Do not attempt to escape by sea. Euron Greyjoy has returned from Essos. His fleet now has free reign over the Narrow Sea.  
King Aegon Targaryen 

"Can you get your hands on those other two scrolls?" Jaime asked sternly.

"I've risked a great deal bringing you this one."

"Who's going to tell? Certainly not us," Jaime answered, looking over at Brienne.

"The door to his solar is never locked. He's in the yard training my Lord. Good day to you both," Maester Colemon said quietly and bowed as he left.

"I'll keep an eye out for the guards. You have to get those scrolls," Brienne said, rushing to Jaime's side.

"Perhaps there's another way."

"What other way?"

"When he's through plucking off his arrows, I'll go to his solar and simply explain the importance of reading those scrolls. Don't worry, if my way doesn't work, we'll try your way."

"I don't know what it's going to take for that boy to understand we're at war," Brienne said, wrapping her arms around Jaime and holding him tight.

"Well, we're not about to go find another one of those dead things and show him. We already know how that ended up before."

XXX

Jaime waited for Robin to return from his training and followed him up the stairs to his solar. "Lord Robin, may I have a word with you?"

"If it's about your friend again, it won't be necessary. He's a knight, regardless of his poor breeding and lack of proper protocol. You've vouched for him so any problems with him or indiscretions will fall to you to sort out." Robin removed his heavy cloak and gloves and took his seat in his giant chair.

"No, this isn't about Bronn, it's about the unopened scrolls there on your desk."

"Oh, I've been meaning to get around to them. We've just been so occupied of late."

"Lord Robin, with all due respect you do remember we are at war in the North, and every single raven we receive is of the utmost importance. These are priorities we cannot shift aside for training and massages."

"With all due respect Ser Jaime, I understand completely that any scroll addressed to me is my concern, not yours, unless you're most curious about this one?" Robin picked up the scroll from Cersei and held it out at Jaime, taunting him.

Jaime could feel the blood rising in his head again and he struggled to keep his temper down and his mouth shut. He took a deep breath and spoke, "Both scrolls could be of equal importance. What do you say we open them now and read them together?" Jaime backed away from Robin and sat in his chair.

Robin's expression was still frozen in a smirk of a smile as he broke the seal on the scroll. Jaime waited, sweat beads forming on his brow as Robin read the letter to himself in silence. When he was done, he sat it aside and did the same with the other letter. Robin only nodded and showed little concern over either.

Jaime sat forward and asked, "May I ask my Lord if I may read them?" Jaime's face was sober and without even a hint of emotion.

Robin pushed the scrolls across his desk towards Jaime and sat back folding his hands. Jaime quickly snatched them.

_Lord Robin,_  
The King has requested I tell you his cousin can marry whomever she chooses. He advises you to concern yourself with the war. The Night King's army has scattered throughout the North. Your interests should and will be the safety and security of your household and guests. He advises you to seek the counsel of Ser Jaime henceforth and orders you to place Ser Jaime in command of the Knights of the Vale until further notice.  
Maester Samwell Tarley 

Jaime looked up. His eyes were wide yet filled with satisfaction. Robin slumped back into his chair and dropped his arms down hard on the thick, blue velvet arm rests. His face now flushed red.

"Go on. Read the other," he spat out.

_Lord Robin Arryn,_  
Queen Cersei is aware her brother and his whore are being sheltered in your castle, along with Sansa Stark. She orders you to hand over her brother and Lady Stark or suffer the consequences of treason. She also orders Lady Brienne be executed and her head is to accompany Ser Jaime back to King's Landing. This is your only warning. If you do not respond within three days, her armies, along with the Golden Company will march on the Eyrie.  
Maester Qyburn 

The scroll shook in Jaime's trembling hand. "This isn't treason, Robin. You are not loyal to Cersei. Your alliance is pledged to King Targaryen. Don't let her threats fool you she's…"

"She's sending her armies for me! Did you read it? Do you understand at all what she's saying?" Robin leapt from his seat, shouting and slammed his hands down on his desk.

"Tell her we've gone! Tell her anything but calm down. Sit down and listen to me. You have no experience in these matters."

"I understand I have two choices; either I put you in charge of my army or I hand you and Lady Sansa over to Queen Cersei and send you back to Kings Landing. Now, in which of these scenarios do I get to live? You tell me!"

"I'm trying to tell you if you'd shut up and listen to what I have to say," Jaime slammed his golden hand down on the desk. The veins in his neck were now visible and his own face now burned hot.

Robin fell back into his chair with a thud like an angry child who'd just been scolded but his eyes never left Jaime's.

"How many men do we have?" Jaime asked.

"Twelve thousand give or take."

"The Golden Company has ten thousand plus the Lannister forces which she'll call from Riverrun. However, we have the advantage of the Bloody Gate."

"You're a fool," Robin said, turning away from Jaime with a sneer.

"You know, in this light, you remind me of another young man who didn't have a fucking clue what it means to fight and win a war. It's a good thing for you I showed up when I did."

"If it weren't for you, Queen Cersei wouldn't be threatening me."

"If you can't remember whose side you're on, I'd be happy to remind you if I didn't have more important things to worry about at the moment. Give the order for your army to fall under my command. If you hadn't waited two days to open those fucking letters perhaps we'd have had more time. As things stand, I'm not only taking control of your knights, I'm taking hold of this castle. I've had enough of your childish nonsense and I'll not suffer under it another moment. I'm instructing Maester Colemon to send a raven to King Aegon giving me control of the Vale. Continue with your training and whatever else it is you waste your time on and point me to your blacksmith. I need new armor."

"You can't do this!"

"I can and I am. You'd be wise to stand down and watch," Jaime said as he pulled open the door and then slammed it behind him.


	20. The War At Our Doorstep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharpen your swords and don't forget your dragon glass!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That's awfully naive of you, Lady Brienne. You know as well as I what's coming for us—the dead from the North and Queen Cersei from the south. You know, I've always felt completely safe here in the Vale. It's been a peculiar realization, all of this death and war."

Brienne stood waiting in the doorway of their chamber for Jaime to return. She didn't have to wait long before she saw him running down the corridor towards her. "Jaime, what is it?" she asked, as he swept past her into the room.

"There's no time to explain everything."

"Make time," she said, following him with her eyes.

Jaime stopped hard and turned back to her, arms flailing and voice hard and deep. "Due to that idiot boy's neglect of his duties, we could be under attack by the Golden Company within days. I need to get to the smith and be fitted for new armor immediately."

"Five minutes Jaime. Stop and give us five minutes," Brienne said, catching him by the arm as he grabbed his sword and turned to leave.

"Darling don't you understand, we've no time. I'm counting on you to have Podrick get Lady Sansa back up into the Eyrie," he said, shaking his head. "That stupid boy, I knew we shouldn't have come down here!"

"Five minutes, Jaime. Please?" Brienne pleaded with him, still holding onto his arm.

Unable to deny her anything, he relaxed beneath her touch. "Five minutes."

His eyes were like two hot blue flames, glaring into space. Something heavy was weighing on him. Based on how he blew into the room and rushed about, Brienne surmised they were obviously in grave danger. "Why is the Golden Company coming here?" she asked soft and low.

"Cersei sent a warning that either Sansa and I surrender, and return to Kings Landing, or she would use the Golden Company to attack the castle and take us by force," he blurted out over a heavy sigh that released the frustration in his chest but only briefly.

"And does she know…about us?" Brienne reached out and snatched Jaime's hand, as if she were grasping for life.

"Yes," he lowered his head and sighed again, before raising his eyes to read hers. "Listen, it doesn't matter to me what she wants. I want you safe. We need to prepare. She expected an answer by today, but because that dolt in the tower didn't read the letter when it came, I'm sure she's released her dogs. Not that anything he'd have said would have made any difference." Jaime's face was twisted as if something inside of him was being torn out violently. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it hard. "What are we doing here Brienne?" His eyes were washing over with wet emotion and he pulled her tightly against him.

"Jaime what is it? There's more, there has to be more," she said. Her voice cracked, and he held her so tight she could scarcely draw a breath. "Where are the letters?" she asked, pulling herself away until she stood loosely in his embrace, and took his face roughly in her hands.

"King Aegon has ordered Lord Robin to place me in command of the knights and his army. I've also taken control of the castle. I need you to get to Maester Colemon and send a raven to Winterfell, informing King Aegon of Cersei's threat. Tell him I've taken the castle in his name, in order to protect it. If Robin protests, we may have to take him into protective custody until all of this is over. Can you do this for me?"

"Of course, I can. You need to get to his commanders and explain all of this. As soon as I take care of everything, I'll come and help you."

"No. Please, I need you to get everyone back up to the Eyrie. That's how you can help me, Brienne. Please, can you do this for me?"

"Yes, I said I would, but I want to be by your side and…"

"Cersei wants your head," Jaime blurted, interrupting her and clutching Brienne's sleeve, shaking her. "Do you hear me? These sell-swords have been ordered to kill you. I'll die before I let them harm a hair on your head."

"Who's takin' whose head?" Their attention snapped to Bronn, now standing in the doorway.

"Bronn. Good. You've saved me some time coming to get you," Jaime said, buckling his sword belt.

"What shit storm have we gotten ourselves into this time?" Bronn asked, sauntering to a sideboard and pouring himself a glass of wine. "Not those screamers; if so, yer on yer own."

"No…we're on their side now; remember?" Jaime said. His sarcasm wasn't lost on Bronn, who raised a brow and poured. "Still not wearing armor I take it?" Jaime asked, walking towards him, to which Bronn answered with a shrug, outstretching his arms and looking down at himself. "Fine, well I do. Come with me and I'll explain everything on the way."

"Ye haven't even asked me if I want to help ye yet," Bronn barked, downing his wine.

"Cersei, Golden Company, heading this way. Would you like to live?" Jaime said in a hiss, an inch from Bronn's face.

He started to pour another glass and stopped, picked up the bottle and said, "I'm in. May I?" he asked, holding up the bottle.

Jaime rolled his eyes, then turned and rushed back to Brienne. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm and whispered to her, "I'll be fine. Get them back up into the Eyrie. I'll send guards to accompany you, but first, the raven."

"I don't know when I'll see you again," she whispered back to him.

"You'll see me at the Eyrie. We still have some time." He pulled her again into his arms and kissed her, stroking her cheek. When the kiss finally ended, he gazed intently into her eyes. He brushed the hair away from her brow as he so often did, and studied her face for a moment. "I am yours and you are mine, from this day, until my last day," he said. She pressed her forehead to his for a moment and then, he was gone.

XXX

Brienne dressed in her armor and headed to Maester Colemon's tower to send the raven to King Aegon. The moment the raven took flight, she made her way to Sansa's chamber and knocked on the door. "My Lady, I need to speak with you immediately," she said through the door.

"Yes, please come in," Podrick said as he opened the door and stood aside. "My Lady, why are you wearing your armor?" Podrick's eyes were large with surprise.

"Lady Sansa, I need you and Podrick to leave immediately and head back up to the Eyrie."

"Surely you're joking, lady Brienne. We've only just settled in here," Sansa said with exasperation.

"Cersei Lannister is sending an army of sell-swords from Essos as we speak, to attack the castle. She wants you and Ser Jaime."

"I'll see her there my Lady!" Podrick exclaimed, rushing about the room and gathering up everything into a large sack.

"Lady Brienne, you cannot stay here in your condition. You shouldn't even be wearing that armor," Sansa said, dashing up to Brienne. Her blue eyes were filled with pleading concern.

"We don't even know for sure my Lady, and besides, if he or she is in there, they're scarcely the size of a walnut. There is plenty of me to protect it, as well as my armor. Please don't worry, now go. Ser Jaime is sending guards to join you. Dress warmly, it will be night before you reach the Eyrie."

Sansa buried herself beneath her heavy cloak and wrapped her neck with a thick woolen scarf. She started for the door and then turned back to Brienne. "You're my best friend in the world," she said, wrapping her arms around Brienne for a moment before racing to the door to Podrick's side.

"My Lady," he bowed to Brienne and took Sansa's hand.

"Wait inside the castle where it's warm until you see the guards."

"We will. Be careful," Sansa said, as Podrick led her away.

"One more thing," Brienne muttered to herself, and closed the door behind her.

XXX

"Move aside, Ser, I need to speak with Lord Robin," Brienne said to the Knight who was now guarding the stairs to Robin's solar.

"Lord Robin has ordered me not to allow anyone up these stairs, m'Lady."

"Perhaps if you ask him if I may speak to him, then?"

"Why are you in armor?" the guard asked, glancing Brienne up and down.

"The same reason you are, I imagine. You do realize we'll be under attack within days, maybe less. I need to speak with that impertinent child immediately. You do yourself no good service by keeping me from him." Brienne spoke through her teeth and rested her hand on the hilt of Oathkeeper.

"My Lady, as a knight, you must understand my position," the guard said, adjusting his body to a fighting stance and taking a step towards her.

"I do not wish to fight you, Ser, but I shall remind you that your loyalty is to King Aegon and Queen Daenerys. I serve them as do you, and their orders are for Ser Jaime Lannister to take command of the army as well as the knights, and he sent me here. Now, stand aside. It would be beyond ridiculous to draw blood on an ally in a time of war."

"I am sworn to Lord Robin above all, but I will not deny my King." The knight stepped back and away from the stairwell and allowed Brienne to pass. She didn't have time to be grateful or even remind him that she was no knight. She only needed to speak to Robin.

Robin looked up from his desk. He appeared to be penning a letter. "What are you doing here?" he asked, going back to his writing.

"I'm here to assist in bringing you safely back to the Eyrie my Lord. We need to go as soon as possible. We're losing the daylight and it grows colder by the minute."

"I don't need anyone to tell me what to do. I need to finish this letter for Maester Colemon before we go."

Brienne stepped closer to the young Lord. Although a young man of five and ten, he was nothing like most young men of his age. He was studious and fit but through no fault of his own, he lacked the common sense one needs to survive in the world. He was pretty enough, and dressed the castle well with his presence physically, but sadly, he did his good father no justice. If he'd survive this war it would be a miracle.

"What are you writing?" Brienne asked softly, choosing to approach him as a woman and not as a soldier.

"I'm writing to Nestor Royce. He's still at Winterfell and he asked that I keep him abreast of my well-being. Since there's a very slim chance he'll ever return, I am saying goodbye to him."

"That's very thoughtful of you Lord Robin. I pray this won't be goodbye but rather until you meet again."

"That's awfully naive of you, Lady Brienne. You know as well as I what's coming for us—the dead from the North and Queen Cersei from the south. You know, I've always felt completely safe here in the Vale. It's been a peculiar realization, all of this death and war."

"All I've known for many years is death and war."

"How many men have you killed, Lady Brienne?" Robin asked, blowing on the ink to dry it and rolling the letter in his hands.

"More than I care to recall, but I can assure you, every one of them killed far more than I did."

"I've never killed anyone. I've ordered people through the moon door, but I've never been the one to make them fall."

"That's something you should be grateful for my Lord. Killing is a terrible thing. War is as well. However, when this is all over, these castles will need their Lord and we must keep you safe until that time comes."

"I want to fight. I want to help in the fight against whoever attacks us." He stood and puffed out his chest.

"I admire your bravery Lord Robin but…"

"No, I am going to fight. I'm an excellent archer, perhaps the best in all the Vale. I assure you, put me on the curtain walls with my bow and I will fight well."

"Let's get your letter to Maester Colemon and begin our journey back to the Eyrie. You can show me how well you use your bow when we get there. Now, come along."

XXX

The night was as black as a raven's wings by the time the van of knights, soldiers and noble folk reached the Eyrie. Sansa was so tired. Podrick carried her in his arms from the front doors of the castle, all the way to her chamber and laid her down. They hadn't eaten since they broke their fast, nor had anything to drink. He filled a cup of water and held up her head to drink. "Please, Sansa. Drink. Drink this and I'll go and find us something to eat."

She sipped from the cup several times and he sat it on her night stand. "I'll get the fire going and then I'll go and get the food."

"I'm so cold," she moaned, although still in her cloak and scarf. Her words frosted over when she spoke.

Podrick rushed to the hearth and got the fire going as fast as he could. Within minutes, it roared bright yellow and the room began to glow. Clambering to his feet, he pulled the heavy blankets over her and whispered, "I'll be back as fast as I can."

"No don't leave me," she whimpered.

"We have to eat and keep our strength."

"No, I mean don't leave me to join the fight. Stay with me and protect me."

"I'll not leave your side. Now, let me go and I'll be back before you know it."

Podrick raced toward the kitchens and found a group of servants rushing about. "You there!" he called out to one of the familiar faces who'd brought meals to him and Sansa before. "Is there food ready? My Lady needs to eat. She's laid low."

"As soon as we get these fires going I'll bring ye some food my Lord," the woman answered, tossing logs into a hearth in the High Hall and lighting them.

"Let me do this. You, go make something to eat for my Lady," he ordered.

Pod lit a fire in every hearth in the High Hall on his way back to Sansa. He took charge, ordering servants here and there and bringing the entire place back to life as he went. His concern for Sansa, pulled him back to her side as quickly as he could move. When he entered, he found her peacefully sleeping beneath a mountain of furs.

XXX

Brienne handed Lord Robin off to his guards and walked every hall and tower until she thought her legs would crumble beneath her. She stationed Knights at every rampart, lit every torch and ordered them to keep the fires burning at all costs. She'd added five hundred additional soldiers to the Bloody Gate, armed with enough arrows to kill all ten thousand men of the Golden Company. Her greatest comfort came from knowing the Eyrie had never been taken and was said to be impregnable. As she made her way back to her own chamber, she prayed that history would hold true.

XXX

"I thought your brother told me this place was impregnable?" Bronn said, as he and Jaime passed through the Bloody Gate. "I see twice as many soldiers here than I saw two days ago. Apparently, they don't think so."

Jaime smiled to himself, and thought, Brienne. "Well wasn't it you who said you could impregnate her?"

"Aye, ye know me. I aim high but ye know sell-swords aren't knights, or soldiers. These are paid fighters. What they lack in honor they make up for in stealth. I ain't sayin' they'll breech her, but they'll get their cocks wet tryin'."

"Well we'll have something for them…and their cocks. This maid won't be going down without a hell of a fight," Jaime said, as they pushed their horses to a gallop up and over the bridge to the Eyrie.

When they arrived at the gate house, Jaime called all the commanders together for a meeting in the High Hall. The amount of respect he commanded due to his vast battle knowledge and experience was something to behold. Unbeknown to him, Brienne was standing in the gallery above them; looking down at him and watching him work. He was so fierce and had extensive knowledge of the Eyrie, as well as her towers and the great Mountains of the Moon that shielded her. She'd never been prouder of him.

"I want hourly reports from the towers, of any movement at all. I don't care if it's a bear or stag, bring me those reports. Change men on the hour. One goes up and one comes down. We need fresh eyes constantly. This will be our war room. Where's Ser Corbray with those maps?"

"Here, Ser Jaime," Ser Corbray said, rushing to the great table and spreading out the maps.

Jaime leaned over the table, his hands outspread at the curled edges of the maps, holding them down and studying them as he spoke. "Ser Corbray will assign the messengers. Any sign of incoming enemies near the Bloody Gate, I want four men riding to the Eyrie with warning—four and no less. At the Bloody Gate, I want two pyres, as big as you can build them just inside the gates. Assign four men to those as well. I want to be able to see those fires from these windows. Commander…what's your name? I want scouts in the mountains," Jaime said, to a large, black bearded knight.

"Ser Wuthritch, Ser Jaime," the man answered. "What about the clans?"

"You're a knight and a garrison commander, kill them if they get in your way," Jaime said, motioning to another knight to hold the maps as he stood and addressed the man eye to eye. "I'd tell you to reason with them to join us but that would be like asking for a full moon on a black night. Just do your best to avoid them. One battle is more than enough without adding wild men to the fray."

"Yes Ser Jaime," the knight said with a bow.

As Jaime gave orders, each commander took them without question and went on his way to his duty. Brienne was slowly making her way down the stairs quietly to the High Hall. I know there must be something I can do other than watch and hide she thought. When Jaime was finished laying out his plans, he and Bronn were the only ones left standing at the table. Jaime was still leaning over the maps when she at last approached.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, every bit the soldier and protector she was born to be.

"Brienne," Jaime said, rolling up the maps and setting them aside. "Would it be beneath you to organize food provisions for these men? They'll need food and have skins of water readily available. I've estimated Cersei's armies should be here within three days so we'll need at least that much."

"Not beneath me in the least. Anything I can do to help. You're brilliant, you know. I just wanted to tell you that." Brienne bowed and turned to go when Jaime spoke up.

"Brienne, thank you."

"As I said; anything for the cause. You don't need to thank me."

"No, I mean for adding the additional five hundred soldiers on the High Road and at the Bloody Gate. I know it was you."

"Yes, that. I figured, we have all of the banners of the Vale, we might as well make good use of them. Besides, five hundred men wouldn't stand a chance against an army of sell-swords, they still may not be able to protect the gate but anything is worth a try."

"I'll see you in our chambers?" Jaime asked, reaching out and taking her hand.

"Of course. Now, let me go see about these provisions."

Bronn spoke as Brienne faded from sight, "That woman has more balls than almost every man I've ever known, including you."

"Do you know what Cersei said to me right before I left Kings Landing?"

"Now how the hell would I know that? I was busy staying the fuck out of her sight," Bronn chuckled.

"She told me I was the stupidest Lannister."

"Well, she does think highly of herself but I suppose she has you to thank for that…at least for the most part. How many years did you spend carrying out her plots?"

Jaime stared down at the floor for several moments and then looked up at Bronn. "You know the sell-swords. Do you have any insight? Is there something I'm missing that needs our attention?" Jaime asked, disregarding Bronn's comment.

Turning and folding his arms as he leaned back against the table, Bronn replied, "These fuckers aren't the Dothraki, that's for certain but they're trained harder and longer than any of the lot you have here. There is an up-side to all of this though."

Jaime winced and cocked his head at Bronn. "And what might that be?"

"They ain't dead. They bleed and they die when you stick them."

XXX

With all preparations in place, there was nothing more Jaime could do but wait. By nightfall on the second day, it had begun to snow. It fell sporadically both in squalls of thick, wet globs and then in curtains of ice crystals mixed with sleet and rain. The soldiers stood in mud, with layers of wool and leather, but the bone chill kept them huddled around their fires and their bellies filled with hot ale. They sang songs and marched their perimeter. They sharpened their swords and slept in shifts beneath their tents. Jaime sent Bronn to the Bloody gate before first light with all of the provisions the soldiers would need for at least three days. The fifty mile trek would take him most of the daylight on a fit horse. He was to oversee the battalions there and receive reports on everything from health to scouting.

The raven came at last from the King at Winterfell, several hours after nightfall. The King had ordered Lord Robin to surrender the Vale indefinitely to Jaime until the fighting was done. Appearing to change his heart, Lord Robin assented, under the agreement that Jaime would allow him to defend his own castle and fight for the Vale. Jaime agreed, although not required to do so.

"Jaime, I don't fully understand why you're allowing that boy to put his life in danger, but I trust you to know what is best," Brienne said, slipping beneath the sheets and blankets of their bed.

Jaime was tending to the fire and preparing to make his rounds of the castle and receive his hourly reports. He stoked the fire until it roared and then placed the poker back in its place. "I'm not his father. It isn't my place to order a man not to fight for his own lands. I was younger than him when I learned. He'll either become a man or die trying."

"You need to sleep."

"I'll sleep when those Golden bastards are dead."

Jaime walked to Brienne's bedside and bent over her, touching her face as he kissed her goodnight. "I'll not see you until morning. Kiss me well."

"If I kiss you well, no one will see you until morning."

"Afterwards my love. After this, I'm taking you away from here. Somewhere. Anywhere. We'll kill anyone who stands in our way."

He'd no sooner spoken the words when he heard the horns blow. Long booming blows with short blasts in between. They were warning of an incoming attack.

"Jaime!" Brienne shouted, scrambling from the bed as he flew to the window.

"The pyres. They're lit. Stay here!" he shouted instinctively, running for the door.

"I will not!" Without even removing her sleeping gown, she began pulling on her clothes and armor.

"Then see to Sansa and follow the plan." He snatched her and smashed a hard, desperate kiss upon her mouth. "We can do this. I love you," he shouted as he bolted from the room.

Brienne flew to Sansa's chamber but she and Pod had already heard the warning. "You two, stay here and keep this door bolted. We'll not let them through the Bloody Gate let alone the Eyrie but Pod, her life is in your hands, you know this."

"Yes m'Lady. She will be safe with me."

"Lady Brienne, please be careful," Sansa said, rising to her tip toes to kiss Brienne's cheek.

"Bolt the door. Don't open it again until this is over."

Brienne made her way through the corridors shouting warnings and ordering everyone to shelter. When she reached the High Hall, she caught a glimpse from the window of the world below. The snow had left them with the advantage of seeing anyone and anything so much as a shade darker than white. Even in the low light of the clouded half-moon, she could see a dark mass moving in their direction from the mountains.

XXX

_I should have known Cersei would lie. Even her threats are lies,_ Jaime thought to himself, as he raced to the curtain walls and turrets. She'd never give them ample warning of anything she intended. Three days would always be two. Now, stranded but hours from the Bloody Gate, Jaime would be forced to stay in the Eyrie and watch from afar as Bronn took the lead against the imposing army of the Golden Company. By the time he reached them on horseback, it would be too late.

The archers were readied from their high advantage on the stone hills above the High Road for miles. One way in and one way out. It would be at least two hours before the front of the Golden Company's battalions would reach the Gate. Again, a squall of heavy snow began to fall. The night turned white and visibility thickened to a blurr until even from the curtain wall of the Bloody Gate House, one could barely see the ground below. The silver and blue armor of the knights was covered with a thick, wet coating of white, giving them the appearance of great snow bears standing on their hind legs. Packs of them. Packs of great white snow bears carrying swords and trembling from the cold.

The bows and pulled arrows sat frozen in the archers' hands. Their exposed fingertips were now red and rigid, barely clinging to the fletching ends of their arrows. They breathed heavily into their thick scarves and felt the wetness against their noses and lips as their warm breath turned to ice when it passed through the wool. Their lashes and brows were thick with ice crystals, and yet they too stood as great white bears; great white bears with trembling paws.

A man screamed out and then another, spinning Bronn's head around in all directions as he searched for the source of the screams. They came to him muffled by the falling snow, and yet he ran towards them as he watched the men below scrambling in every direction. Swords drawn, their bodies now in constant motion they began to appear as the snow shook from their armor. Clanking and banging rang out in the night as the screams increased the closer he came to the ground. There, he pulled away his scarf from his face to wipe the snow from his eyes, as out of the sheet of white a ragged creature, clad in rags and hanging meat, leapt onto the back of a fully armored knight and took him to the ground as if he were no more than a baby deer.

"Fucking hell!" he screamed, running back towards the Bloody Gate. The snow was above his ankles now, slowing him down and yet he flew for his life. He grabbed a torch from the fire pit and pulled the dragon glass dagger from his belt. There was no way of knowing how many of these things there were, but the fear that they'd not have to fight one but two battles on this night kept him moving until he slammed the door behind him. He watched from the wall as the knights and soldiers took them on. This wasn't a full on battalion of those things but more like a screaming, flailing mob of perhaps a few dozen. He imagined they were part of the scatterings Jaime had spoken of from Aegon's letter.

"Get word to Ser Jaime! We've those dead things down here!" Bronn shouted at the messenger riders. "Get going!"

"What about the Golden Company?" the rider shouted back.

"Fuck the Golden Company! We've got those dead bastards to deal with first!"

Bronn knew only knights carried the dragon glass as they hadn't nearly enough to arm everyone. He did know the archers carried it in their quivers and hoped the commanders on the walls of the road had put it to good use. As the snow began to slack, visibility improved enough for Bronn to see the Golden Company had advanced during the fight with the Wights, but now, all of the soldiers of the Vale who'd fallen to the dozen or so who'd ambushed them, were beginning to rise.

"Fucking hell!" he shouted, ordering the archers on the wall of the Bloody Gate to pull their dragon glass arrows and shoot anything that stood up, as well as those who were now clambering up the walls of the gate. "Oil barrels! Give these dead bastards a nice hot bath!"

The Wights burned and fell from the wall as the archers took out any stragglers with their arrows. Burning undead bodies ran through the snow until they fell and didn't rise again.

The muffled sound of horses' hooves now loomed. Growing closer by the second and yet also dwindling beneath the arrows of the archers. Crossbows mixed with standard bows, fired off nearly five hundred arrows at a time, laying out the soldiers of the Golden Company. The night grew louder and louder with the screaming neighs of the horses as they were hit and fell, along with their riders. Bronn was smiling from ear to ear as they appeared to be winning, until he saw the fire balls reach into the sky.

"Take cover!" Bronn shouted, as the first of many incoming fireballs, launched from a catapult, hit the gate. He ducked below the wall and when he rose, he heard the trumpeting of elephants now barreling through the snow. "Come on lads, we'll have to fall back."

Suddenly, the entire structure of the gate began to rattle. When he stood and looked over the wall arch to the gate below, two great elephants lowered their thick, armored skulls and rammed it. Clinging to the wall, he shouted again," Forget that order, kill those beasts!"

Fires still raged below and the steam and smoke mingled in the night. The men were coughing and waving their arms to clear the air before them as they again, poured barrels of boiling oil over the side and tossed torches onto the backs of the great beasts. Bronn finally decided he'd had enough and led the soldiers from the gate to the stone hills above the road.

From the hill, Bronn could see the sea of soldiers from the Golden Company. They filled the High Road from side to side but he could easily see Cersei hadn't sent all ten thousand. He raced to find the first commander he could.

"We can take them!" Bronn shouted at the man.

"Are you insane? They outnumber us five to one!"

"We have the advantage of height. The Bloody Gate is in flames and their elephants are roasting on a spit right now. Light up those arrows before those catapults take down the gate."

Again, Bronn's attention turned when he heard more bellowing screams in the night. This time, they were coming from the soldiers of the Golden Company. He strained his eyes to see over the horde of men and watched as they began to fall. Two, five, ten at a time. Again, the skeletal creatures came. This time, their slaughter was directed at any man in their path and gratefully it happened to be their enemy.

"Those things are back!" the commander shouted.

Bronn appeared to ignore him and stood and watched as the creatures made waste of now not two's and fours but tens and twenties of their enemies. Finally, Bronn turned back to the commander and said, "After some thought, I'd rather fight the living than the dead. Prepare your archers with fire arrows and the dragon glass. We'll need to put these things down before the dead ones rise."

XXX

Despite the time and distance, Jaime had taken the best horse he could find and was already over halfway to the Bloody Gate. He'd left Brienne in full charge of the Eyrie, knowing she'd manage everything as he would or better. When he reached the half way point, he saw the four riders coming towards him. They informed him of the Golden Company and of the Wights. He searched his belt to find he'd forgotten his dragon glass dagger. He was shaken for a moment and then told the messengers to continue on and inform Brienne. Again, he glanced down at his belt but continued on. Widows Wail was valerian steel. He knew it had to be enough.

Jaime's horse was spent when he spotted the great pyres burning in the distance. He'd ridden the poor thing hard. It coughed and slowed beneath him, until finally he leapt from his saddle, drew his sword and continued on foot the half mile to the gate. He could hear the roar of battle and the screeching screams of the Wights. He'd heard that sound only once before and the volume at which he heard them now, shook him to his core. He wondered how many there were, and yet he carried on.

Suddenly, out of the darkness he heard riders approaching. He spun around in the dark, expecting soldiers as he knew the dead did not ride. "You there!" a deep raspy voice shouted.

"Who are you?" Jaime shouted back, as the high, thick dark shadows came towards him into view, surrounding him.

"Where's your horse?" the man asked.

"Dead I suppose…wait, who are you I asked?" Jaime repeated until at last, the heavy furs and beards, as well as the crude axes and pikes told of exactly who they were. However, many of them were wearing castle forged armor and carrying steel swords and shields. "You're hill tribesman of the Vale," Jaime muttered, lowering his sword. "You fought with my father at the battle of the Blackwater."

"You're not the little lion."

"No, I'm his brother. Jaime Lannister."

"I am called Shagga, leader of the Stone Crows. Have you seen the dead men?"

"Have you?"

"How do you kill them?"

"With this…" Jaime said, before remembering he didn't have his dagger. He stammered a second and then said, "Fire."

"Then, let's go kill them," Shagga said, reaching his hand out to Jaime and with little effort, pulling him onto the back of his horse.

When Jaime and the Hill Tribe arrived at the gate, the fires still raged. Men burned everywhere they looked. Jaime pulled his scarf over his nose and mouth as the smell assaulted him. The gate still stood closed. Jaime leapt down from the horse and looked up at the top of the gate for any sign of anyone moving, living or dead. He grabbed a torch from the wall of the gate and motioned for Shagga and his men to do the same.

"We go in here and up. Once we reach the top, we can spread out on the stone hill."

"Why we not go through the gate?" Shagga asked.

"Because until we reach the top, we have no clue what's on the other side."

Jaime led them through the gatehouse and up the stairs to the top of the arch. Dead men lay burning and groaning end to end. They had to step over them and move them just to reach the wall. On the other side, was complete devastation. "I was wondering when you'd get here." A voice came from behind Jaime. It was Bronn.

"Bronn," Jaime exclaimed, snatching his friend by the shoulder. He was bleeding from beneath his hair and the sleeve of his leather tunic was torn away from his shoulder. He was covered in soot from the fires and shivering from the cold. "What can we do?"

"Who's we?" Bronn asked, and then realized what in fact "we" meant. "Well if it isn't our old friend, Shagga wasn't it?"

"They've come to help," Jaime said.

"They can start by burning the rest of these bodies before we have more dead on our hands than we can manage. We've got stragglers…dead ones but I think we killed most of them."

"Why don't you take a party and get back up to the Eyrie. You've done enough and you need to see the Maester for those wounds. Take all of the injured with you," Jaime ordered.

"Don't need to tell me twice," Bronne said, pulling what was left of his scarf up to blot the blood on his head. "Watch your back. We don't know how many of things are still out there."

"What I wouldn't give for Daenerys and one of her dragons right about now," Jaime said, looking out over the High Road, littered with dead men. "Well Shagga, let's get to work."

"More dead men?" Shagga asked, looking back at his men and then back at Jaime.

"Yes. There could be more. You know the tales of the Wight Walkers, right? From beyond the wall?"

"We are descended from the first men. Yes, we know the tales."

"Before you burn any bodies of the knights, search them for dragon glass. It's black glass we've fashioned into daggers. Collect every one you see. Besides fire, it's the only thing to kill the Wights. Understood?"

Shagga nodded and Jaime led them from the Bloody Gate, down onto the High Road to burn the dead.


	21. Come the Winter Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's got to be a morning after.  
> This is one of my favorite chapters. I hope you enjoy it. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm going to find us some water for both bathing and drinking. Some food might not be a bad idea either," she said, pulling on her boots. "Stay here, but please don't lie on the bed until you've bathed." She pounced over to him, swept his filthy outgrown hair away from his face and kissed him quick. "I'll be right back."

Brienne turned over in bed. Her long bare arm drifted slowly across her body until her hand came to rest, tucked between her cheek and pillow, and pressed into a prayer against her other palm. She squirmed the slightest squirm, until her body settled, and pressed comfortably into place. She slept soundless and soundly, her naked right shoulder rising ever so slowly and then drifting back down, in a rhythmic peaceful dance. Her pale skin was exposed to the waist, where the soft, blue silken coverlet had fallen away as she slept. It draped up and over her right hip like a wave rolling on the surface of the ocean. Warm firelight danced over her, creating valleys of shadow and mountains of shimmering golden light.

He watched. He waited. Unmoved from the chair he'd pulled up next to the bed, he sat, still clad in his soot covered armor. Widow's Wail stood held between his gloved hands; her deadly end pointed into the floor. How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell. His only thought was that to disturb her, and steal this vision from his memories would be one of his utmost regrets.

The long night of fire, snow and blood was over now, and to walk through their chamber door and find her like this was bliss. This was what he killed for and would repeat night after night if it meant she could sleep like this. Gazing upon her, one thing puzzled him, and he couldn't point it out or define it with his weary eyes. She was as lovely as ever—lovelier if possible, but something had changed. Something was different about her. He took a deep breath and sighed, releasing the emotion that was rising in his chest. This is how it truly feels. This is what is real. He closed his eyes and hung his head low.

"Jaime?" she whispered.

He raised his head in a snap and pushed himself up by the hilt of his sword half way and stopped. Her eyes were still closed. Her breathing was still level and slow. She was dreaming. She was dreaming of him. He lowered himself back down into the chair and resumed his watch over her. He'd stay there until first light if necessary. He'd stay there until dawn the next day if that's how long she slept. He placed his sword carefully on the floor next to him, leaned back into the chair and slid into it until he was comfortable. Within minutes, his head dipped to the side and he fell quietly asleep.

When he awoke, cramped and sore from the at first comfortable, and now awkward position he'd slumped into, Brienne was lying on her stomach on the bed facing him. Her knuckles were propping up her chin and a smile covered her face. "Well, good morning," she whispered. "Can you move?"

He groaned and sighed as he righted himself in the chair, and leaned towards her until he was nearly an inch from her face. "Painfully yes, but seeing you helps."

Brienne rose from the bed and slipped into her robe. Stepping towards him, she picked up his sword and leaned it against the wall next to the bed. "Stand up," she ordered with a smile in her voice. "Let me get you out of this armor."

Jaime winced as he stood, and helped her finish removing his armor, and she piled it all near their chamber door. "I'll peek out and see if the guard is nearby." She opened the door and glanced down the corridor, finding only a woman pushing a cart of chamber pots. "She's collecting pots, Jaime. Better go if you need to," she giggled and then looked back towards the woman. "Miss?" she called out to her, "I'm sorry to bother you but is anyone available to bring fresh water and…never mind." Brienne stopped and closed the door. She began putting on her clothes as Jaime now sat again, in nothing but his pants, and watched.

"What are you doing?" he asked, rising again from the chair. He was still hunched a bit, appearing a man much older than his early forties, and walked slowly to the hearth and began tossing in split wood.

"I'm going to find us some water for both bathing and drinking. Some food might not be a bad idea either," she said, pulling on her boots. "Stay here, but please don't lie on the bed until you've bathed." She pounced over to him, swept his filthy outgrown hair away from his face and kissed him quick. "I'll be right back."

She was a whirlwind spinning around him and it blew him in circles in his head. He loved it. He smiled to himself and stoked the fire. He smelled himself and grimaced, then stepped into the large mirror above the hearth, scratching at his scruffy beard. He cringed at the sight of so much silver that now peppered it, and frowned at the scars and lines. For a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of his younger self when he leaned forward a bit and stared straight into his own eyes. Blinking the vision away in his mind, he turned away and hoped to never see it again.

"I'm back," Brienne announced. "Come in. Just bring it in here by the hearth where it's warm and fill it," she said, ordering a group of servants, each carrying buckets of hot water.

Jaime stood watching the parade filling the tub. His hand on his hip and his head cocked slightly at the sight of this. "A bath?"

"Well I did tell you that," Brienne remarked, following them all to the door and holding it for them as they filed out of the room. "Remember what I told you. At least a pound of ham, a dozen eggs and an entire loaf of fresh bread…and don't forget the butter and goat's milk!"

Jaime laughed loudly and asked, "Who are we feeding here, Brienne, the entire army?"

She closed the door and bolted it with a bang. "There, we won't be disturbed." She trotted over to him and took him by his golden hand. "Let me help you with this," she said, gently removing it and setting it on the table. Jaime just stood there, somewhere between awe and utter confusion. "Here, I'll get your pants. Get in the bath before it gets cold." He stood motionless, watching her as she easily pulled the ties of his pants and they dropped to his feet. He stepped out of them and two steps later, was sinking into the hot, soothing water.

Brienne placed a bathing cloth, folded into a thick pillow over the back of the tub, and eased Jaime backwards until his head rested against it. "Thank you," he sighed, closing his eyes. "This is wonderful."

"You and Bronn, the commanders, the knights, the archers, the foot soldiers, we owe our lives to you all," she softly said. It was the first time since she'd opened her eyes that her words weren't rushed. She dipped the wash cloth into the water and filled it with soap. "I see a few new bruises. Perhaps it wasn't the chair that caused your aches."

Jaime spoke with his eyes closed. "Perhaps a bit of both."

"Will you tell me about it or is it already tucked away inside?" She started at his feet, gently taking them in her hands one at a time and massaging them gently as she washed them.

"By the time I arrived, most of the battle was over. There were a few of those things left. They don't retreat. They just keep coming until you put them down. They don't retreat. There were still a few hundred of the Golden Company, many had lost their horses and ran on foot into the night. We sent parties out to look for them but the last report I received was only the ones on horseback made it out alive," he said with a rasp, his head still back. His eyes still shut.

A knock came at the door and Brienne stopped to answer it. "Who is it?"

"Your food m'Lady."

"Just leave it there. I'll get it. Thank you." Brienne waited for the woman's footsteps to fade, and then opened the door. There was a cart with everything she'd asked for. There was even a small glass bud vase with a beautiful winter rose. She pushed the cart into the room, bolted the door again and went back to bathing her husband.

She brushed the wash cloth up and down each leg, paying careful attention not to put too much pressure on any fresh bruises she found. Jaime was silent, yet occasionally smiled when her hand drew close between his thighs. He opened his legs to give her easier access and moaned softly when she washed him there. Almost immediately, his erection grew beneath her hand.

She smiled down at the water and said, "Why don't you tell me more about last night? It will take your mind off other things."

"What if I don't want to take my mind off other things?" he asked with a grin that spread from his mouth to the corners of his closed eyelids.

Brienne chuckled softly. "As I always tell you, you're irredeemable. I still haven't the slightest idea why I married you."

"Am I? Am I really?" he asked. His voice had changed from devilish lad to somber.

"Are you really what?" Brienne said, taking hold of his right forearm and raising it, now working at the stench beneath his arms.

"Irredeemable."

"When it comes to your insatiable lust, yes," she said taking his other arm and repeating her scrubbing. "And I thank the Gods for it. Who wants a husband who doesn't want to bed you when he has you alone?"

"I'm getting old, Brienne. I don't know how to carry all of this anymore. I'm running out of space in my head for it all," he said overladen with angst, in a low groan edged with a whine.

"Sit up now," she said, gently pulling on him until he sat forward in the water. "Something tells me you're asking for some…some deeper meaning in my words, and I know you too well to allow you to bait me into such foolish talk." She snatched the soap from the water and slapped it into the wash cloth roughly and rubbed it until it was thick with soap. As she scrubbed the back of his neck and shoulders, she continued. "You've suffered as much if not more than the amount of whatever misdeeds you've done. You've paid every price." She reached down and grabbed an empty pitcher, filled it with water and poured it slowly over his head.

Still sitting forward, he opened his eyes and stared at his reflection in the water as she began to wash his hair. The sensation of her long, slender fingers massaging his scalp covered his skin with gooseflesh and he shivered; his body, still warm from the water, was now exposed to the cool air of the room.

"Are you cold? I'm almost through. Let me rinse your hair." Brienne began filling the pitcher over and over and pouring it through his hair as she combed her fingers through it to make sure it was clean. "Lay back," she said, helping him recline. She climbed from her knees and lifted the bathing cloth she'd been kneeling on and held it open for him to step into.

Wrapping it around him, she pulled him close and took his now clean, flushed face in her hands. "When you speak of these things, I want you to understand my curtness isn't with you for anything you've done. It isn't even curtness, Jaime; it's frustration." As she spoke, her eyes travelled the surface of his face. She brushed her thumbs over his beard and smoothed it down over his sharp jawline. She played with his wet hair, combing through it with her fingers and sweeping it behind his ears. She even smoothed his brows until her hands at last came to rest as her fingers threaded together at the back of his neck. He stood pressed against her, wrapped in the bathing cloth and his eyes never wavered from hers.

"I tell myself over and over how well we know each other in order to comfort myself when I know you're in pain. I know nothing I say will erase any of it, nor will it coax you into talking to me about it. I love you regardless. I know everything I need to know and when there's more to tell, I will be here to hear it," she leaned into him and kissed him, as the bathing cloth slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor. His mouth was open, pushing her lips apart as his hand came up to her neck just below her ear. He pulled her firmly to his mouth, until their tongues danced around each other and he consumed her lips. Brienne slid her hands from where they rested on his hips, up over his stomach until they pressed flat against his chest and she pulled reluctantly away. Jaime held onto her, pressing his now swollen erection against her.

"I want you," he whispered through another deep kiss, sucking her lips into his mouth.

"I want you too but our food is getting cold," she panted, closing her eyes as he pulled at her tunic and pushed his hand beneath it, capturing her now erect nipple between his fingers.

"Fuck the food," he growled walking her back towards the bed. "Take off your clothes. Don't argue with me."

"As if I could."

The moment her tunic swept over her head, his mouth was on her again. His kisses were hard and his beard grazed roughly over the naked flesh of her long neck, her collar bones and down over her breasts. She sighed beneath the warmth of his hand as it pawed at her back, jerking her forward into him until they were pressed together below the waist. Her head fell back, leaning her torso away from him as he took her breast into his mouth, almost whole, and then released it, grazing his teeth over her nipple before moving to the other. His breath was hot and he breathed hard into her sternum as he ground his cock against her.

"Lay down," she whispered, lifting his face up to meet hers and kissed him.

Jaime backed up and laid down, watching her as she pulled off her pants and pounced onto the bed, climbing up between his legs, pushing them apart. Pressing her palms into the bed aside his chest, she leaned over him, kissing his forehead, his nose, his cheeks and onward to where the hair on his chest, laced its way towards the little dip of his throat beneath his Adam's apple.

"Brienne," he whispered, raising his head to look down at her. "Kiss me."

"Not yet," she moaned into the tender flesh around his belly button. She knew that was a sensitive area and she enjoyed making him squirm when she drug her tongue over it. A giggle escaped her lips and she did it again. His breath hitched as she continued lower. Her hands spread out across his hips, digging her fingertips into the tops of his thighs and then gliding them up to his waist and back again, never lifting her mouth from his skin.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he moaned, pushing his fingers into her hair and winding them in tight. Although enjoying her subtle and loving exploration and the sensations it was building within him, his body ached to throw her over and fuck the breath out of her. He knew where she was going and he hoped he wouldn't explode the moment her mouth drew him in.

Sliding her hands down over his thighs, she pulled free of his hand in her hair and pushed herself back onto her knees, taking him in her hand. Jaime raised his head and watched as she leaned over, her mouth hovering, her hand clenching around his shaft. He couldn't bear it any longer. He sat up half way and pushed his hand into her hair again, only this time, he snatched a handful of it and pushed her open mouth onto the now throbbing head of his cock.

"Seven hells!" he cried out as she took all of him in her mouth, and then slowly drew him all the way out as he watched. His eyes blinked and clenched as she repeated it again and again, stopping only to watch him, watching her. His hand, still entwined in her hair, he held on as she sucked him harder and faster, still watching him. He closed his eyes in hopes his building climax would subside without those fucking blue eyes boring a hole in him, but the sound of her mouth drawing him in and out was just too much.

"Stop. Stop!" he shouted, tugging at her hair to pull her off. She threw him a smile, twisted him out of her hair and sat back on her ankles.

Without saying a word, she pushed him onto his back and climbed atop him again. She smashed hard wet, tongue filled kisses into his mouth and whispered into his ear, "Touch me."

With no other encouragement needed, his fingers slipped between her thighs as she knelt over him, hovering above his waiting cock. She was wetter than he could ever remember, so wet when he touched her there, her juices spilled onto his fingers like warm honey. Her palms pressed into his pillow aside his head, holding her up as his fingers slid between her swollen folds. Again he watched her eyes, her face and her mouth. She licked her lips and he wanted her tongue again.

"Kiss me Brie," he purred.

Her pelvis began to rock against his hand, slowly at first and then faster. He kissed her deeply, pulling her tongue into his mouth as he could feel her body begin to tense, and she tightened inside around his fingers. Suddenly she backed off of him, reached down and pulled his cock to her opening. "I want you inside me," she panted.

Jaime had reached his limits and sat up, wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her down onto him. Her body began to stiffen and she cried out, her hips rocking hard, driving him faster and faster into her as he met her rhythm. Her arms flew around him, as she rode her climax out, burying his cock so deeply inside her that the intense pleasure mixed with pain. Involuntarily, Jaime drew his knees up and dug his heels into the bed, bracing himself, fucking up into her as she held tightly onto him, breathless and weak, unable to stop until the explosion he'd held off with every ounce of strength he had at last released.

"Fucking hell…" he said, pulling her down on top of him as he fell back onto the bed.

They lay like that for several minutes, until she felt him slip from inside of her and she rolled off of him and settled against his side. "What was that about you being old?" she asked, turning her head against the pillow to look at him. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling but a smile grew on his face as he turned to look at her.

"Old as in, I don't think I can do that again for a few hours instead of a few minutes."

"Well, that does it. It's over. You know I need it often and I don't know if I can wait that long." She giggled again, watching his expression change from a smile to shock. "You know I don't mean that." She reached up and cupped his face in her hand. "You're all there is for me. You're the love of my life." Sitting up, she leaned over him and kissed him and then climbed out of bed and hopped into the now lukewarm tub with a splash.

"You're crazy, did you know that?" Jaime asked, following her to the tub and climbing in with her.

"Jaime Lannister! This tub isn't big enough for us both! Who's the crazy one?"

"We'll fit just fine," he said with a smile, as she pulled her knees to her chest and he lowered himself in, sending water over the sides. "Come here."

Brienne stood and turned, then sat back down between his legs and lay back against his chest. Jaime rested his arms on the edge of the tub as she nuzzled her cheek against his beard. "I'm very serious when I tell you this so please, no jokes and no games. All right?"

"Jokes? Me? You must have me confused with someone else. I never joke," he said with his usual sarcastic charm, nudging her with his chin.

"Why do you keep saying your old?"

"By chance have you noticed all of this silver in my beard? It isn't star dust from burying it in your sweet garden my love."

"Oh stop that!" she shouted, "So what you have some silver. I think it makes you even more handsome." She was quiet for a moment and then reached up, took his left hand from the side of the tub and kissed it, and then pulled it down into the water, flattening his palm against her stomach. "You're not too old to give me this."

"Give you what? A good lay? I already told you…" he stopped.

Brienne suddenly realized after several moments, he hadn't drawn a breath. "Jaime, what is it? Are you all right?" she turned in the water and backed up onto her knees, bracing herself on the tub. "Jaime?"

At last he spoke, "Are you with child?" His eyes sparkled as if they were glass and he leaned forward.

Brienne was terrified. For the first time she couldn't read him. She didn't know if he was happy or she had just disclosed something that would completely ruin them. Then she saw something she hadn't dreamed of. He blinked and a thick, heavy tear rolled from the corner of his eye and down his cheek so fast if she'd have blinked she would have missed it.

"My Lady," he whispered, standing in the water and then pulling her up with him. "You've made me the happiest man in all the seven kingdoms."


	22. Dark Wings Great and Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If ravens bring letters, what do letters bring?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's eyes widened and he straightened his shoulders before leaning back into the chair. "That would take months before I'd reach Winterfell. By then, it would be too late. Not to mention Euron Greyjoy's fleet is out there somewhere in the Narrow Sea, just waiting for an opportunity to destroy any ship headed north."

Lord Robin Arryn called for a victory feast with Jaime, Brienne, Bronn, and the commanders, in the High Hall over a twenty-course supper. The amount of food was enough for fifty men the size of the Mountain. There were salads of greens and nuts, glazed ham and mutton, wild turkey and stag, boiled potatoes and carrots smothered in butter sauce, as well as sweet cakes and pies. At the conclusion of the meal, Robin thanked everyone for their brave and stunning performance in saving the Vale from the invaders. He even ordered all of the leftovers be given to his knights, who stood waiting in the gallery for the men at the table to disperse, so they might have their second-hand reward.

"I have seen to the notification of King Aegon of your valorous fight. However, we aren't foolish enough to believe Queen Cersei will give up so easily. Maintain your posts and keep your regiments at the ready my Lords."

After his speech, he requested Ser Jaime join him in his solar. Jaime was not thrilled at the prospect after their last exchange, but he had hopes that this conversation would end on a much more in-tune note.

"I'll see you back at our chamber," Jaime said to Brienne.

"I'll escort the lady…that is if it's all right with you," Bronn said, stepping next to Brienne, offering her his arm. He leaned between them and whispered, "She's safe with me; unless of course the Lady insists. On second thought, take yer time." He winked.

Jaime winced, and a half smile grew on his face as Brienne rolled her eyes. "Come on you, before I push you through that moon door," she said, taking Bronn's arm.

"Isn't she just wonderful? It's as if she can read my mind," Jaime cooed sarcastically at Bronn, and kissed Brienne goodbye on her cheek.

"Ser Jaime," Robin called to him. He glanced back at Bronn and Brienne strolling off, and sighed. "Yes, my Lord," Jaime answered and followed Robin to his solar.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you up here," Robin said, taking his seat and motioning for Jaime to sit as well.

Jaime shrugged and said, "With the fires still burning on the High Road and at the Bloody Gate, we're a mere two days removed from the battle. I imagined you wanted to discuss the details of the fight."

"I've already received very detailed reports from my commanders. They praised Ser Bronn's exemplary leadership, as well as your strategies, that gave Ser Bronn the foundation upon which to carry out this victory. I'd heard you were the best war strategist in all the seven kingdoms and you did not disappoint." He stopped and leaned forward. "A Raven came just before we supped."

Robin's words pulled Jaime forward in his seat as well. "From?"

"Why, King Aegon of course. Upon word that we'd beaten back the Golden Company, I immediately sent word to him of our victory here. He's asking for your immediate return to Winterfell to assist him in the fight."

Jaime's eyes widened and he straightened his shoulders before leaning back into the chair. "That would take months before I'd reach Winterfell. By then, it would be too late. Not to mention Euron Greyjoy's fleet is out there somewhere in the Narrow Sea, just waiting for an opportunity to destroy any ship headed north."

Robin bounced a bit in his seat and leaned back as well. "That's the exciting part, Ser Jaime. He's offered to send Queen Daenerys on one of her dragons to carry you back!"

Jaime's eyebrows rose, and a laugh escaped his chest. He wasn't sure if the laugh was to mask the terror he felt, or if he believed the entire idea to be too absurd to even entertain. "You can't be serious."

"Dead…serious," Robin said, appearing to be surprised at Jaime balking at such a suggestion. "Imagine it! Riding a dragon. How many men do you know who've ever actually ridden a dragon?"

"I do know several actually but…" Jaime's brow now furrowed, and he still could not restrain a smile and another laugh but he pulled himself together, and then said, "May I see the letter?"

"Of course," Robin replied, passing Aegon's letter across the desk.

Jaime lifted the parchment and began to read.

_Ser Robin, Ser Jaime and All,_  
We were pleased beyond comprehension at your great victory in the Vale. We've managed to hold off several small hordes of Wights in groups of less than one hundred to several hundred. Armed with dragon glass, and the fire pits we've dug all around the perimeter of Winterfell, they've fallen easily. However, we know the worst is yet to come, perhaps in less than a fortnight. With Sansa secured there and your knights and banner men to protect her, I'm ordering Ser Jaime to return and assist in our battle planning. I've arranged for Queen Daenerys to come for him as soon as I receive word from you.  
King Aegon Targaryen 

"Well, I suppose he's made his decision. You do know my wife is with child. There's no way I'm going to allow her to ride on the back of a dragon for over a thousand miles."

"King Aegon did not request the Lady Brienne, Ser, only you."

"And what pray tell do I do with my pregnant wife while I'm off in Winterfell?" Jaime's voice deepened but he managed his temper better than before.

"I assure you, I will see that she is protected and kept safe until you…return. Of course. Of course, you'll return."

"Only death will keep me from it." If there was only a way to get her and Lady Sansa safely to Tarth. Jaime spread his thumb and forefinger across his brow and rubbed at it deeply, staring down at his lap. "But I cannot risk it," he said aloud, answering his thoughts. Suddenly, his eyes shot up at Robin. "Have you answered him yet?"

"No, as I said this only arrived just before we supped."

"Will you allow me to respond? I'd prefer it were my own words, if that is acceptable to you?"

"Of course. You've saved the Vale and thousands of lives. You've certainly earned the right to answer a letter on your own behalf." Robin stood, straightening his tunic and pouring himself a glass of wine. "You?"

Jaime's mind was over a thousand miles away, in Winterfell to be specific. He held the letter in his left hand and then flashed his eyes up at Robin. "Thank you. I'd like to retire now. I have a feeling I may not be getting much rest tonight once my wife finds out about this."

"How splendid it must be to have someone to share your troubles with. Perhaps someday I'll be as fortunate as you. I believe a wife will make me a much more contented and grounded man. Mother always said I needed someone strong like her, that's why I had revisited the long-ago engagement to Lady Sansa." Robin stood and clasped his hands behind his back. "However, watching you and Lady Brienne and seeing the love that passes between you, I believe strength isn't the only quality a good wife requires."

Jaime stood and lowered his eyes for a moment before looking up at Robin from beneath his brow. "Tonight, many things shall pass between my wife and I, and I pray I'm not one of them. My Lord," Jaime said with a bow and turned to leave when a thought flashed before him. As he opened the door, he turned back and said, "My Lord, have you ever had the pleasure of meeting the Lady Lyanna Mormont?"

"No Ser," Robin shook his head fast. "I have not. Tell me, is she beautiful?"

"She's not yet promised and she's a fierce, honorable and powerful young woman. She's a bit rough around the edges but yes, when she isn't scowling and weighed down by duty, she's rather…" Jaime stopped, trying to find the right word. He thought of Lyanna as still a child. He tried to remember the word that came to his mind when he'd seen her laughing at supper once many years before, when he'd had the honor of meeting her at a tournament in the Riverlands. "Pretty," he finally said and smiled, and exited the room.

XXX

The letter in Jaime's hand weighed him down like an anvil as he walked to their chamber but that was nothing compared to the weight on his heart. How could he leave her like this? How could he not? His King needed him—not his sword, him. As he walked, all of his vows and promises walked beside him like childhood friends who'd long passed. They were ghosts now. They lingered in the shadows and only came out when he was alone and here they were, all at once beside him, behind him, everywhere. I made yet another vow to Brienne and yet again, I'm forced to choose he thought.

He found himself standing outside their chamber door. He could hear light laughter and conversation coming from within, and thanked the Gods for a few more minutes of reprieve before he'd have to tell her or perhaps, show her the letter. He folded it and tucked it into his tunic and put on the mask of a peaceful mind, before entering the room.

"At last he's returned," Brienne said with a smile.

"Ser Jaime, I hope you don't mind us barging in like this. I'm making some clothes for the baby and I wanted to show Brienne some of my ideas." Sansa's face was alit with pure joy and she held several drawings in her hand of various tiny gowns and patterns for embroidery. "Look," she said, handing them to Jaime.

His eyes smiled as he imagined the soft, small garments and the as yet unborn treasure dressed in them. It suddenly occurred to him the sex of the child hadn't even crossed his mind. Boy or girl, no matter. Lannister boy or girl was his only care. He admired Sansa's drawing of the Lannister sigil, as well as the sigil of Tarth. He wanted to burst at the thought of seeing his children, Lannisters all.

"They're lovely, Sansa. How blessed are we to have such a talent in our midst. We are so grateful." He smiled and handed them back to her.

"It's I who's grateful. Who knows how long it will be, if ever, before I have a child of my own, but Lady Brienne has promised she'll save everything for me for when or if that day comes." Sansa's voice was sad and yet sweet with glimmering hope.

Jaime's eyes shifted to Podrick, who stood with his hands folded in front of him with an impish grin. When he caught Jaime looking, he cleared his throat and his expression went flat. There was no way Jaime was allowing him to escape this. Jaime walked towards him and said, "So Podrick, what do you think of all of this baby hysteria?" and dropped his left fist down lightly on Pod's breastplate with a wink.

"Congratulations my Lord. Babies are always blessings."

Jaime raised an eyebrow and turned his head to Sansa, who appeared to be hanging on their every word. "Well, I agree. They are always blessings, especially mine," he said, his voice turned up at the end as he stepped to Brienne. He slid his golden hand behind her back and placed his left, lightly on her still flat tummy. "How many shall we have my darling? Two? Four? Six?" They all burst into laughter at Brienne's shocked expression. "What? I like even numbers, can't you tell?" he asked playfully, placing a kiss upon her cheek as she shoved him softly aside.

"Why don't we start with this one and see how it goes?" she said, and took the drawings from Sansa, going over them with her again.

Jaime walked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of wine, and then another. He held his back to the room as he drank them both in long guzzles, and then turned back to them, behaving as normally as he could.

"Well, I think I have everything I need to get started. I've been trying to find a vocation since we got here and I think I've read every book in the castle. This should keep my hands busy until the baby comes. By then, he or she will have a gown for every day of their first year," Sansa said, clutching the drawings to her chest. Jaime hadn't seen her this happy since they were at Winterfell when she was just a girl. He couldn't help but smile as well.

Sansa ran to Brienne and hugged her while Podrick held the door. "Shall we break our fast together in the morning?"

"That sounds lovely," Brienne replied, kissing Sansa on her cheeks and seeing them out.

"That young woman needs a babe," Jaime commented, removing his sword belt and sitting to remove his boots.

"That young woman needs a husband first." Brienne stepped behind Jaime and leaned over him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders in an embrace. "You know, if Pod were knighted, he'd probably feel confident enough to ask for her hand."

"He's a good lad. If that's what he desires than I will certainly nominate him to King Aegon."

Brienne took Jaime's hand and walked over to the bed and pulled him to sit next to her. "Why the two quick glasses of wine? What happened with Robin?"

He glanced at her and smiled. He could get nothing past her. "Yes, I suppose we should get to that."

"Have you had enough liquid courage or shall I pour you another?" She smiled. "Obviously this isn't good news."

Jaime reached into his tunic and pulled the letter free. He held it between his fingers and handed it to Brienne. He couldn't bear to say the words in fear that the messenger would have to take the brunt of her anger. He watched her eyes. She swallowed hard and appeared to start again at the beginning, reading it twice. Then a third time before lifting her eyes to his.

"We'll go together" she said, folding the letter and pressing it in her lap.

"You cannot go."

"You cannot tell me that I cannot go. You are my husband and I'm not letting you go without me."

"Brienne, it's too dangerous. Think of our baby, please," he said, turning towards her and taking her hand in his.

"I am thinking of the baby. If you go and I stay, what do you think will happen? I'll be sick with worry until you return. That won't be good for the child either."

"That will be less of a stress than your death my love."

"No," she said, tearing her hand away from him as she stood, defiantly staring down at him. Her hand suddenly flew to her mouth and a deep sob poured into it as the letter fluttered to the floor.

"Darling," Jaime said, leaping to his feet and clutching her to him. "Please, sit down," he whispered in her ear, turning her and sitting her back down on the bed. He knelt down in front of her and placed his hand on her thigh. "I don't wish to leave you. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do but we have to win this battle. If King Aegon believes I can help, even in some small way, then we'll never have to be apart again."

"Jaime…you, you have to…trust me," she sobbed. "I…I know I'll be fine and…the baby will be fine too if I…I come with you." Her words were broken into pieces like shattered glass.

"Brienne, please. You're tearing out my heart." His head fell forward and rested between her thighs, clutching at her gown and muffling his own tears. He laid there for several minutes when he felt her fingers slide beneath his hair. Her hand began stroking through it, soothing him. He slid further into her lap until she took him into her arms. They were two, sniffling, sobbing clumps of raw emotion joined as one. His face buried against her stomach, he felt her take a deep and ragged breath and release it with a long sigh. And then she seemed to shudder and the stroking stopped.

"Send your reply. Tell King Aegon to dispatch the Queen. You'll send me a raven every day if you can. If more than three days go by and I do not hear something from you, I'm coming to Winterfell, if I have to walk all the way."


	23. Of Love and Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the end of what I've written so far. Tonight, I'll get to work on chapter 25. I really hope if you've made it this far, that you're enjoying the story. I brought the story here to AOOO at the request of a reader, even though I'd been coming here for months now and reading. Other than Braime fanfics I love SanSan fics. FanFicitonFriday on Wordpress has sent me here for some great stories.   
> Well...on we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm certain King Aegon has received your letter by now. I suppose on the morrow, there will be a dragon in the Vale." Robin stared into the flames. He loosened his cloak and pushed it back over his shoulders, placing his elbows on the arm rests of his chair.

_King Aegon,_  
Your request to come immediately to Winterfell is accepted. It is an honor to do whatever I can to assist you in the war. I shall prepare and be ready upon the morrow for Queen Daenerys. I send you my assurances of your cousin's health and safety, as I will leave my man, Bronn, in service here at the Vale. There is also the matter involving the young squire, Podrick Payne. I am requesting knighthood for him. The young man has proven beyond a doubt he deserves the honor.  
Your Loyal Servant,  
Ser Jaime Lannister 

"Here, let me help you with that," Brienne said, gathering Jaime's things and packing them into a large sack. She'd hardly looked at him since he'd carried the letter to Maester Colemon, for the raven to Winterfell. She'd been dutifully making sure he had everything he needed for his journey, but since she'd given him her blessing to go; Jaime could feel her pulling away from him.

"Brienne, if there was any other way you know…"

"Of course I know," she interrupted, tossing his bag by the chamber door with a thud. "I'm letting it sink in now. We've been together for months," she said, her words were weighed down with sadness. She walked to the bed and sat, waving him over to sit beside her. "It won't be easy not having you here with me. I suppose we've taken our time together for granted. When this is over, let's not do that anymore."

"We will win, Brienne," he said, leaning to her and taking her hand. "And when we do, where would you like to go first?"

"Home I think." She sighed and smiled. "I'd love it if our child could be born on Tarth. I know my father sounds harsh but he'll soften once we place his first grandchild in his arms."

"How could he not? This child is going to be absolutely perfect," Jaime said, sitting up strait, squaring his shoulders with pride. His voice was like a warm smile, dosed with a healthy slathering of Jaime charm. "Have you given any thought to names yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Well work on that while I'm away and please, promise me, no training. Nothing at all that may put you or our child's health in jeopardy."

"I promise." She swiped a fallen tear from her cheek and finally turned to look at him. "What will I do without you? You're not only my husband. You're my closest friend…my heart and soul."

His eyes traveled over her face and he too wondered the same. His left hand slid up to her cheek and cupped it gently. She leaned into it, covering his hand with hers, and closed her eyes. "Come back to us."

"I will."

XXX

Robin Arryn paced nervously in his solar. He paused occasionally at the hearth, stoking it and then called for a steward to feed the fire. He pulled on his heavy cloak and sat back in his chair, watching the fire breathe and grow again.

"Lord Robin, your bed chamber is warm and ready for you…much warmer than up here in the tower," the young red haired boy called Landon said.

"I have work to do, as do you. Mind your fire and be on your way," Robin groaned at the lad, and pulled his cloak tight about his chest.

"Yes milord." The boy bowed and exited the room.

"Boy! Wait!" Robin shouted.

"Yes milord?"

"Tell Ser Jaime I wish to see him, and have my supper placed in my chamber."

"Yes milord," the boy said, backing out of the room.

Robin's teeth chattered in his mouth no matter how tightly he pulled the cloak around him. Even his insides trembled and goose prickles covered his skin. The fire roared. The sound of it breathing and snapping and the bright orange and yellows, dancing ceiling to floor, gave him no more comfort than a campfire in the snow. He pushed himself up from his seat and then drug his make shift throne across the stone floor until it sat directly in front of the hearth.

"There…that's much better," he mumbled to himself. In moments, his breath was no longer white and his insides had settled.

"Lord Robin? You wish to speak with me?" Jaime asked from the doorway.

Robin perked up in his seat and motioned for Jaime to bring another chair for himself to the hearth.

"I'm certain King Aegon has received your letter by now. I suppose on the morrow, there will be a dragon in the Vale." Robin stared into the flames. He loosened his cloak and pushed it back over his shoulders, placing his elbows on the arm rests of his chair.

"Yes, indeed there will be. Are you concerned about something?" Jaime asked.

"Of course not," he said, turning his head to Jaime in a snap. "Once the bird flew, I expected you to come to me to discuss your journey." He turned back to the flames.

"Apologies my Lord, I was preparing, and spending these final hours with my wife." Jaime was curious and found the lad although gruff, pensive as well. He looked about the room as Robin sat silent for several moments. The space, although glowing with firelight and warm where they sat, was as empty and as solitary as a crypt.

"I called you here to reassure you that we will do everything in our power to protect the innocents. You need not have that weighing on you when you leave. Upon your advisement, I've appointed Ser Bronn to command the knights and to oversee all military operations in the Vale. He's proven himself and as such, I have every confidence in his abilities."

"Wise decision; Bronn has been a loyal and trusted friend. Although the man loves his gold, I believe deep down it is his honor that provides him with his greatest reward."

"Ser Jaime, I want to thank you for your counsel and although perhaps at times I have seemed stubborn and ungrateful, I'm sure you can understand what it's like for someone of my age to carry the burdens I do. When you've returned from the war, I'd like it if you and Lady Brienne would accept my invitation to stay as long as you like." Robin sat up straight and turned, now facing Jaime at last. "I feel I could benefit from the knowledge of a man like you."

Jaime's thoughts drifted back to a time when the phrase, 'a man like you' meant something quite different. Now the words turned inside of him. Now, they attached themselves to something warm and prideful, yet the answer was still the same. "My Lord, there are no men like me; only me."

"You're right. If I've learned anything from your visit here, it is most certainly not to judge someone, based on the opinions of lesser men. I do hope you return, Ser Jaime," Robin said and rose to his feet. Slowly, he raised his left hand and met Jaime's and shook it firmly.

"If I may my Lord, shall I give you a sound piece of advice?"

"By all means, Ser."

"Do not concern yourself with the opinions of any man, greater or lesser. When those you deem greater, give you their opinion of you in the negative, it's because they're frightened you'll unseat them. When lesser men do, it's because they know they'll never unseat you. Do you understand?" Jaime asked, cocking his head and standing, patting Robin on the shoulder.

"I believe I do."

"When I was your age, I looked up to someone…a knight. I admired his honor and his skill. In my eyes, he was the man I wanted to be," Jaime said, placing his arm around Robin's shoulder as they walked to the door.

"Did you?" Robin stopped to ask.

"Did I what?"

"Did you grow up to be that man?"

Jaime's head inclined and looked down for a moment in thought. A smile grew on his handsomely scarred face, pulling his silver whiskers into his deeply dimpled cheeks. He moved his hand, patted Robin on the back and said, "That my boy is something yet to be seen."

XXX

As was promised, Podrick and Sansa joined Jaime and Brienne for supper. Together they ate, drank and chatted over a meal of roasted chicken, fresh bread and rabbit stew, loaded with vegetables. While Brienne and Sansa's conversation shifted to babies and music, Jaime and Podrick excused themselves for a stroll to walk away the fullness of their meal.

"I for one look forward to eating as many of these as I bloody well want when I'm with child," Sansa remarked as she nibbled away on her favorite dessert.

"You don't want to eat too many or you'll find it very difficult to regain your figure once the child is born, my Lady," Brienne said, picking up her second lemon cake and taking a bite as they both laughed. "Will you not be gone long?" Brienne asked, as Jaime and Podrick were leaving. The longing and sadness still swam her eyes, pulling at Jaime's heart.

"Of course not, my love. Carry on and we'll be back before you two devour the rest of those cakes," he said with a wink.

Jaime pulled the door closed behind him and let out a heavy sigh as he looked over at Podrick. "And that, my good lad, is the hardest part."

"Saying goodbye, my Lord?" Podrick asked. His deep brown eyes folded sadly down at the corners.

"Tomorrow will we the worst for several reasons. First, leaving your wife and unborn child and the other…" Jaime paused, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together in a low hum.

"The not knowing if you'll ever see them again. I understand my Lord," Podrick said.

"I don't need to tell you what a formidable fighter my wife is. It's a bitter drink to swallow Pod, for her not to be able to join this fight."

"My Lady is the best with the sword. Where she a man, I'm certain they'd sings songs about her."

"You spent a good deal of time with her, Pod. I'm sure you must have some stories worth singing about," Jaime nudged Pod at the shoulder and chuckled.

"None more song worthy than when she bested the Hound, Ser. Now, that fight was worthy of an entire book of songs. I still can't believe he's alive."

"Oh I know a song even better than that one, Pod." Jaime chuckled. "I myself have been at the end of her sword and seen the result of men who dared to challenge her. By all the Gods that woman should be fighting at my side. Can you imagine how difficult this must be for her?"

"Yes milord. Lady Brienne, unable to do battle is quite a loss for our side."

"So, how are things with Lady Sansa?" Not wishing to dwell on the inevitable near future, Jaime decided to change the subject.

"Very well my Lord. She has been in good spirits and spends almost all of her time drawing or sewing. She even sings softly as she works."

"That's good to hear," Jaime said, and then turned his attention to the sound of footfalls approaching. "Bronn, I've heard the good news of your appointment," Jaime said, nodding to his friend.

"Good news for this place and for me I suppose," Bronn remarked, tucking his thumbs in his belt and rocking a bit on his heels.

"You suppose?" Jaime asked with a laugh. "You're second only to Lord Robin now. You're admired and respected by your men. Not to mention…" Jaime pulled him aside, away from Podrick's ears. "I've noticed a certain little black haired lass lingering about your chamber."

"Yeah, yeah, only because you're fookin' ass is married and they've all seen yer bride with a sword," Bronn grumbled. "By the way, I've been meaning to speak with you about those promises of yours."

Jaime planted his hand on his hip and his voice softened with sweet sarcasm. "Are we really going to go into all that now? This could be the last time we ever see each other. Do you really want to spend these last few precious minutes bickering over what's owed?"

"I ain't that lucky. Somehow you or that brother a yours always turn up needin' me for something." Bronn leaned in and poked Jaime in the chest. "We'll see each other again or I'll drag ye outta the ice, thaw yer ass out and I'll get my gold, my highborn lady and my castle."

"Don't make me say it," Jaime whispered with a wince.

Bronn raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. "Truth is I was kinda hopin' ye would…for old time's sake."

"No I won't, but only because for the first time in my life, I don't know if I'm able to. You do realize I'm poor now?" Jaime pouted. "I'm rich in love and self-respect but sadly, I couldn't even afford a mug of ale at the Crossroads."

"Well, look at the bright side, if the others get ye, no more worries and if they get Cersei and we win, the spoils are yours."

Jaime felt a tug in the pit of his stomach. All manner of deaths that could befall Cersei played in cloudy visions in his mind. He swallowed hard; confused by the physical reaction he was having at the thought of her demise. Even after she'd threatened to have the Mountain kill him, and her betrayal plot with Euron, within him he had the sensation of a rip, like the tearing in half of a single bolt of fabric.

"Jaime? Jaime?" he heard Bronn's voice calling him away from inside his own head.

"I'd…I'd better get back to Brienne," Jaime muttered, looking left and right; remembering where he was and why.

Bronn whistled through his teeth at Podrick, who was still meandering in the corridor as he and Jaime spoke. "Hey Squire, get over here," Bronn called out.

Podrick padded towards Bronn who pulled him around by the neck with his arm into a tight headlock and whispered in his ear, yet loud enough for Jaime to hear, "So, is it true ye been keepin' the Stark girl's bed nice and warm?"

Pod wrestled from Bronn's grip with an ease Bronn hadn't expected. No longer the boy who used to fall victim to Bronn's crude remarks and pranks, he gave Bronn a shove and backed away straightening his clothes. "Don't speak of my Lady so callously."

Bronn laughed and puffed out his chest as Jaime's head seemed to roll on his shoulders until it rested, cocked at Bronn's folly. "Well I guess that answered my question," Bronn said, still smiling. "I pity the man that has to follow you into her bed, if she ever gives another man the chance!"

Podrick leapt towards Bronn. His face was red and his fists clenched. Jaime threw himself between them as Bronn's laughter continued. "Are you seriously going to force me to leave this place wondering if you two are going to kill each other?" Jaime shouted, his golden hand pressed to Bronn's chest and his left to Podrick's.

"Just havin' a bit a fun," Bronn said, reaching around Jaime to shake Podrick's hand.

Podrick was still glaring at Bronn, until Jaime met Pod's angry mug with a pleading look for him to call a truce. "If you're going to want to beat every man who comments on you and Lady Sansa out of turn, you'll need thicker gloves to protect your knuckles. Take it from me, thicker skin works much better," Jaime said. He patted Pod on the chest gently and waited.

A few moments passed and Podrick reached out and shook Bronn's hand and gave him a hard yank, pulling him to his chest and whispering, "One thing I do know, it sure as hell won't be you following me with her."

Jaime held his breath, watching the two men now nose to nose, when suddenly they both smiled and broke apart in laughter. Jaime blew out a sigh and his head fell forward in relief.

"Goodbye Lannister," Bronn said, pulling Jaime into a tight embrace and then taking him by the shoulders. "I'll see ye again. Ye ain't getting off this easy. And don't give this place a second thought. We'll keep her standing. Me and Pod here will see to that." Bronn nodded at Podrick as he spoke and then turned fast and strode away.

XXX

Before the black sky had turned to gray, Brienne was awake and pulling a cart loaded with hard cooked eggs, bacon and hot bread into their chamber. She sent her request to bring an early breakfast for her and Jaime the night before. With no knowledge of when Queen Daenerys would be arriving, she wanted to make sure she and Jaime had one last meal together before he had to go.

Tears fell in splashes onto the table as she leaned over it, arranging plates and cups and filling them. She filled the wash basin and arranged clean clothes, the warmest and thickest he had, for him to dress in. Sansa had helped her sew fur into his tunics and lined his jerkin with thick wool. His armor would be far too cumbersome for riding a dragon, so she'd had it assembled neatly on a dress manikin in the corner of their room.

"Come here wench," Jaime whispered. His hand outstretched from where he lay. His eyes still squinted and his long hair, tossed loosely against his pillow.

Brienne stepped to the bed and took his hand. She slid slowly beneath the heavy coverlets and pulled herself in tightly against his bare skin. He was still warm with sleep. He raised his head to kiss her hair as he stroked her shoulder gently. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked, closing his eyes and pressing another kiss into her tussled blond mane.

"A little," she whispered and sniffled.

"It was easier before."

"What was easier?"

"Saying goodbye."

"Easier for whom? Certainly not me," Brienne said, now brushing her long fingers over his chest lightly.

"Have I ever told you the story about Bronn?"

"I don't need any stories about Bronn right now, Jaime."

"No, I think you'll like this one," he said, pulling her closer. "We were aboard a ship in the Narrow Sea. We were going to Dorne to attempt to retrieve the Princess Marcella to save her from the Sand Snakes," he paused and breathed deeply, releasing a sigh. "It was the most beautiful day. The sun glistened on the water. In the distance, was an island. Green rolling hills and mountains, surrounded by glistening sapphires. It didn't dawn on me until I asked the Captain if the island we were passing was Estermont, at which time he informed me this paradise was in fact Tarth. I must have appeared a damn fool because a moment later…at least it felt like a moment, but I heard Bronn's voice; 'pull it together lad, she ain't home, remember?'"

"What were you doing?" Brienne asked. Her body shook gently with laughter.

"I haven't the slightest idea but apparently I was frozen in some idiotic trance, just staring off like some love struck boy," he said over a chuckle. "You think this is funny do you?"

"So then what happened?"

"Bronn being Bronn made some crude smart ass remark about blonds and how he knew the day I sent you off with Pod after Sansa…how I felt about you. I denied everything of course but later, we somehow ended up in a pleasant conversation about how we wanted to die." Again, he chuckled.

"Sounds horrible to me." Brienne said, as Jaime felt her embrace tighten again.

"I told him, in the arms of the woman I love. He asked me if she wanted the same thing." Jaime suddenly fell silent and still. "Leave it to Bronn to steal away a moment where I believed I knew beyond a doubt what I wanted. Now I'm not so sure."

"First of all, why are we talking about dying? Of all days Jaime please…"

"That was the day Brienne."

"What do mean?"

"The day I finally admitted to myself I was in love with you. Of course every time we said goodbye my heart would speed up and I'd feel as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff about to plunge to my death. That was definitely love." He laughed. "I kept telling myself I was sending you away to protect you and in truth I was." He pulled back away from her and turned, looking down into her eyes. "I was too stupid or frightened to realize all I had to do was take that step off the cliff and I'd have known I wouldn't fall…I'd fly," he said, his voice trailing off into a whisper as he pulled her into a passionate kiss.

They made love for the last time. It was slow and tender. She held his face in her hands and kissed him as he swept the hair from her cheeks and caressed her lovingly.

"If our child is a boy, I'd like to name him Tyrion after my brother. I don't believe he will ever father children of his own and he was a wonderful uncle," Jaime whispered, curled in behind Brienne.

"And if it's a girl?"

"Joanna, after my mother, if you agree of course."

"I never knew my mother. My Septa, Roelle was my only mother. I'll think on it and of course, you'll be consulted when you return."

A knock came at their chamber door. Brienne shouted, "Just a moment!" and pulled on her clothes.

"It's Landon, malady," the boy on the other side of the door announced.

"What is it Landon?"

"A raven came, malady, for Ser Jaime."

Brienne opened the door and took the letter. It held the Targaryen seal. She walked slowly to the bed and handed it to Jaime.

"No, read it to me…please."

Ser Jaime,

Queen Deanery's will arrive for you before nightfall. As to your other request, you may tell Lord Robin to act on my behalf. Herein I have attached my royal decree to legitimize the matter. I look forward to seeing you. Please give my best to my cousin and to your honorable wife.

King Aegon Targaryen

"Podrick will be beyond excited," Jaime said, finally pulling himself from the bed to wash. "Oh look, yet another cold breakfast," he said with a smile.

"I'll warm it by the fire. Will you inform Lord Robin once we've broken our fast?"

"Indeed we will. I wouldn't miss this for the end of the world," he said, turning back to throw her a devilish grin.

"That's not funny!"

"If you don't mind, I'll wear my normal clothes until the Queen arrives. I don't want to sweat to death while I wait." Jaime pulled a plain pair of pants and a light white shirt from his wardrobe and pulled on his stockings and boots.

Within the hour, they informed Lord Robin of Podrick's appointment and he appeared honored to perform the knighting ceremony in the High Hall. Robin even called for a feast to honor Ser Podrick Payne, the newest knight of the Vale.

Jaime and Brienne watched as Robin said the words. Brienne held Jaime's arm tight when she nodded towards Sansa, who it appeared, had painted a smile on her face that she couldn't wipe away.

"You're a hopeless romantic, Jaime Lannister," Brienne whispered, stealing a kiss from her husband's cheek.

"I suppose you'll just have to add that to the long list of the reasons you love me," he whispered back, pinching the flesh of her bottom and then rubbing it gently as she yelped.

"It will be dark soon," she said, as Jaime wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Please tell me why I chose this time in our lives to become an honorable man? I'd rather just steal you away and never look back."

"You've always been an honorable man. It just took love for you to realize it."

She'd barely spoken the words, when every voice in the hall was silenced by the unmistakable screech and roar of a dragon.

"Shall we go my darling? I believe that's my ride."


	24. The Clouds Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm heartbroken but like our wonderful characters, my heart will go on and continue seeing this through until the end...or the beginning.  
> I want to thank everyone for the comments and kudos too! Nothing spurs a writer on like knowing people are reading their work and even better, enjoying it! Please hang in there with me. A new chapter will be ready before you know it! xoxoxo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, I don't know. I'd like to believe after the years of struggle we've all endured, it will be wonderful to see the sunshine again and spend the rest of our lives enjoying the peace. We've earned that much."

Podrick, no longer a squire, placed his sword in its sheath, and his eyes sought the eyes of those who mattered most on this remarkable day. As he'd hoped, they were already fixed on him, until the roar of the dragon quieted everyone in the High Hall, and pushed them to the grand windows to behold the miracle that was Drogon, carrying their queen. The pomp and circumstance of only moments before ended with a roar. He ran to Sansa, taking her hand, and they joined Jaime and Brienne at the window.

"Shall I go and gather your things milord?" he asked abruptly, as Jaime leaned into the window sill and Brienne clutched tightly at his arm.

"Yes, Pod. Thank you," he muttered soft and low, turning his head slightly but unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle out the window.

Drogon circled the castle towers several times before at last settling down into the courtyard with one final deafening screech. Podrick raced back to Jaime, his heavy cloak and the duffle in tow, along with his sword belt, which Jaime fastened at his hips as they walked quickly, one and all to the courtyard. Lord Robin rushed to Jaime's side as they stepped out into the fading light of evening. Stricken by awe, frozen in a mob of tightly group gawking eyes, as if the cold had stopped them in their tracks.

Jaime had been this close to Drogon on several occasions but that didn't stifle the trembling in his legs as he watched the beast lower his enormous head to the ground and then his great wing, offering it as his Queen's staircase. With this act, he appeared a great and gentle giant, although everyone present knew with but a word, he could become the dreaded monster of legends and put them all down with one breath.

Jaime held Brienne's hand tightly as they watched together. With every chuff of the beast as he breathed, their own breath held in their chests until they could hold it no longer. Robin on the other hand was fascinated and appeared completely at ease, adding to Jaime's assumption that this boy was indeed touched in some way. Either that, or the ignorance of his lack of any physical suffering had left him oblivious to the notion of fear for his own life.

"Good evening, Ser Jaime, Lady Brienne," Daenerys said. She bypassed the castle Lord and walked immediately to the Lannisters, with her gloved hand outstretched to greet them.

"Your Grace," Jaime said, bowing to her as he took her hand. "We are at your service."

"I'm sure you've been traveling for a while, is there anything we can get for you before your journey back to Winterfell?" Brienne, asked with a curtsey.

"Hello, your Grace," Robin said, rushing between them. "I am Lord Robin Arryn."

"Good evening to you Lord Robin. May I trouble you for a brief respite before Ser Jaime and I head back to Winterfell?"

"Anything your Grace; anything at all," Robin said, his voice trembling with excitement. "This way your Grace," he said, leading her towards the entrance to the castle.

Daenerys stopped upon spotting Sansa on the edge of the group of knights and servants. She stepped to her and took her hands. Her eyes watered as she smiled. "Hello Sansa. Your cousin will be delighted to hear first-hand that I've seen you with my own eyes and found you looking so well."

"Thank you, your Grace. I look forward to the end of this war so that I may return home and he may see me for himself."

"He asked that I give you this," Daenerys said, leaning up and kissing Sansa lightly on the cheek, to which Sansa returned the kiss.

"And please give him that from me, along with my love. Cousin by blood or not, Jon…Aegon, will always be my big brother," Sansa whispered and smiled.

Daenerys nodded, and continued onward behind Robin. "I've admired the Eyrie my Lord, from afar of course, but it truly is a great castle. I give you our thanks again for offering your protection of our cousin and friends."

"It is my honor your Grace." Robin turned and signaled the servants to bring food and drink for the Queen.

"Please don't go out of your way. We won't be staying long. I simply need a small refreshment and…" her voice trailed off as Brienne caught her glance and nodded.

"Come with me, your Grace," Brienne said, leading Daenerys out of the room.

"Women, yes, I don't understand but…" Robin remarked quietly to Jaime.

"Women's bodies have the same needs as our own my Lord, and I'm certain there is no privy on a dragon," Jaime chuckled.

Robin looked down and away and mumbled to himself as he oversaw the servants setting out large trays of food and drink. "Continue bringing it all. We've still the feast for our newest knight of the Vale to celebrate," he ordered. When he turned back, he waved off everyone and anyone who had been gawking at the queen and her dragon, to go back to their duties, and invited only his commanders to the table. As always, the knights would stand either as guards or fill the gallery if they chose.

"How I envy you Ser Jaime," Robin said, coming to Jaime's side as he poured himself a cup of wine.

"Yes, as you've said. Hopefully Robin," Jaime said, pouring another cup and handing it to Robin. "You'll never have to go to war. I believe if the queen has her way, there will never again be a reason for anyone to go to war."

"Sounds like some fantasy dream. Men will always fight. It's their nature to battle it out over everything from ladies to land."

"Well then I suppose you'll just have to wait and see then," Daenerys said, coming upon them from behind. "May I?" she asked, reaching for the wine.

"Please, allow me," Jaime said, pouring her a cup and handing it to her with a bow.

"Lady Brienne tells me you're expecting your first child."

"Yes, indeed we are your grace," Jaime said, sitting down his cup and sliding his hand around Brienne's back.

"How wonderful; all the more reason to save this world, wouldn't you agree?"

"What better reason could there be than to preserve it for the ones to come?" Jaime replied.

"Oh, I don't know. I'd like to believe after the years of struggle we've all endured, it will be wonderful to see the sunshine again and spend the rest of our lives enjoying the peace. We've earned that much."

"I completely agree your Grace," Brienne said, as Jaime handed her a glass of water. "I want to go home to Tarth. I'd prefer to go with my husband." Brienne's tone was stern. Jaime could see the understanding in Daenerys' eyes when she heard Brienne's words, and felt them.

"Well, that's why I'm here, isn't it? We need your husband—we all do. I cannot thank you enough for allowing us to steal him away, but this war requires every capable person the realm can spare. Ser Jaime, being a seasoned warrior and one of the bravest men I've ever seen, save King Aegon, will increase our odds of winning tremendously."

"Really, your Grace, I'm as afraid as a child to climb on that dragon out there…"

"You weren't afraid when you charged me with that spear," Daenerys interrupted him. "Was that bravery or insanity?" she asked with a grin. She waited a moment as Jaime's face winced and no words came until she smiled. "Don't worry; there are no more grudges or unpaid debts to worry about. You're either living or dead. That's all that matters now." Daenerys took one last drink of her wine and turned to Brienne. "Were you not with child, you'd be coming with us. I just want you to know that. By Ser Jaime coming, you're sacrificing more than enough for this war."

"Please, please win. I cannot live without him," Brienne said, soft and low.

"We have no intention of losing and your husband is just one more reason we won't. Shall we go?" Daenerys said. She turned and took Robin's arm as they headed back out into the courtyard.

"Oh, how I wish I was a great warrior like Ser Jaime, so that I could come with you," Robin gushed, bowing to his queen.

"Your place is here, protecting our cousin and friends. We will keep you abreast of our progress as often as possible. All we ask is that if anyone else in the realm seeks refuge here, you welcome them. Your protection of the innocent, is more important to our cause right now than your sword."

Jaime watched as Daenerys' attention was now turned to him. He pulled the strap of the duffle over his head and across his chest to secure it in place, as Brienne watched. She stood a few feet away, clutching her cloak tightly about her neck as the wind began to pick up. The fur framed her face as it had that day aboard the ship from White Harbor. Tears began to pool again in her eyes. Her cheeks glowed pink in the wind and her sapphire irises bore into him, as he stood at what felt like a million miles from her touch.

Finally, after several moments, he walked to Brienne. His eyes watered in the wind, or so he told himself. He believed his true strength lied within Brienne, but then she blinked, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "My darling, we will be together again," he whispered and leaned in, kissing her deeply as he snatched a handful of her cloak and pulled her hard against him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and held him there. He didn't want her to ever let go.

Finally, when their kiss ended she said, "You will return to me. I forbid you not to. We'll be waiting. I love you, Jaime."

After one long last look at her face, as if he hadn't already committed it to his memory, he said, "I love you more than you will ever know."

Jaime turned and walked towards Drogon. Podrick stood in his path and embraced him. "Gods bless you Ser," he said, patting Jaime hard on the back. "I'll let no harm come to them. I'll die first."

Jaime nodded and took the precarious path behind Daenerys up onto Drogon's wing, careful as he stepped, until he settled behind her on the back of the massive beast. He looked down at Brienne. She was so strong and brave—much stronger than he was, he believed. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. He feared freezing to death or falling off in flight, but when he settled in atop the mystical creature, he instantly felt the warmth radiating from within Drogon.

"You won't freeze as you can obviously tell, and as long as you hold on, much like riding a horse, you won't fall off. However, I've added the extra precaution of riding chains. My ancestors used them. Here," she said, unhinging the ends of a chain harness that wrapped around the beasts' neck and showed Jaime how to attach them to his sword belt. He was thankful and did as she instructed.

With most of his immediate fears silenced, he hooked his good hand around the chain and nodded to Daenerys that he was ready to go. His eyes widened, and his heart raced, as the beast raised his head and rose onto his back legs. In one sweeping movement, Drogon arched his back and pushed off from the ground. The great wings, like the black sails of a Targaryen ship, filled with wind, rising and falling, lifting them into the sky. His hand clenched the chain tightly through his glove as they jerked and bounced when his wings pounded the air. He held his breath and closed his eyes tightly.

When the beating wings took on a rhythm, that although still unnerving, became predictable and steady, he at last opened his eyes again. The Eyrie was nowhere in sight. They were high above the Earth and the world below faded into the clouds. He relaxed. He breathed. He was no longer afraid.

He already longed for his wife.


	25. While Magic Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime arrives in Winterfell and is briefed on the status of the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "While magic lives in the world, for as long as it lasts, we have to use it to our advantage.”

Jaime didn't believe anywhere could be colder than the Vale; that was until they reached Winterfell. Leaving the warmth of Drogon, only caused the snow filled wind to burn him to the bone when his boots finally touched the ground. It was hours after dark and they were met by a group of three men, covered from head to toe in dark fur cloaks, their heads and faces were concealed but for their eyes. In their thickly gloved hands they held burning torches and waved Daenerys and Jaime toward the castle gates. The great green fires he had seen from above gave the castle walls an eerie glow, and encircled it in an enormous ring.

"This way milord," one man shouted, pushing the torch forward to light their way.

How in the name of all the Gods could anyone fight a war in this? He thought to himself. Then his thoughts turned only to warmth and shelter as the doors to the castle opened and they all rushed inside.

"Ser Jaime," he heard a man say, as he hurried to the huge hearth in the great hall and removed his cloak and gloves shaking off the snow, and removed his satchel and dropped it to the floor.

Jaime turned and saw the face of King Aegon himself. Still dressed all in black leathers, he stood holding out a cup of what smelled to Jaime to be hot cider. "Thank you, your Grace," Jaime said. His eyes were filled with surprise but this was of course no ordinary King. He appeared taller and much thicker than only months before. The corners of his eyes bore the lines of an older man who'd seen far too much for far too long.

"As you can imagine, we haven't much time. Let's get you settled in and then we'll meet in my solar," King Aegon said. "Thank you for coming." And he was gone.

"Ser Jaime, come this way," said a younger man, who Jaime surmised to be either a squire or steward, and he followed until they reached a chamber and the young man sat Jaime's satchel on the bed, bowed and carried on.

Jaime was surprised that the hallways were not cold and neither was his room. It was small but cozy and warm. A fire burned brightly in the hearth and there was fresh water for both bathing and drinking on the small dresser in the corner. Understanding the need to make haste, he still knew he needed to get word to Brienne immediately that he'd arrived. After quickly washing his face, he left the room, made inquiries about direction and headed to the Maester's quarters.

Upon arriving, the door was ajar and he could hear voices coming from inside. He tapped his knuckles on the door and it opened enough for him to see inside. "Excuse me," Jaime said, upon seeing a large, pleasant looking young man sitting at a desk reading. He watched as the man drew his thick fingers across a page and then lifted a quill from an inkwell and began writing something on a piece of parchment. "Excuse me, are you the Maester?"

"Oh, hello, please, come in," the man said, placing his quill back into the ink. "I'm Samwell Tarley. Do I know you?"

"No, I mean, I don't believe we've ever met but…"

"Jaime Lannister," he heard another voice, coming from the other side of the room. He pushed the door open the rest of the way to reveal another dark haired young man sitting in a chair next to the hearth; a chair with large wheels.

Jaime's eyes widened and his mouth hung half open at the sight of the fellow. He knew immediately who'd said his name. He'd caught a glimpse of Brandon Stark upon his brief visit months before but now, here he was, face to face with who they now called the Three Eyed Raven.

"Do you know each other?" Samwell asked, now standing behind the desk. His glances ricocheted from Bran to Jaime and back again.

"Come in Ser Jaime. You've come to send a raven. Sam can help you with that," Bran said. Jaime still couldn't form a word but his legs did move him just inside the doorway.

"Yes, I'd like to notify my wife of my safe arrival," he finally said, unable to turn his eyes away from Bran.

"Yes…yes, I can take care of that for you," Sam stuttered, obviously now sensing the awkward air of the room.

"I must go to the King but if you'll allow me…that is, if it is agreeable to you Lord Stark, may we speak when and if time permits?" Jaime asked without moving a step away from the threshold of the room.

"It's very late. I have to rest soon. Perhaps tomorrow? However, you'll find there really isn't anything to say," Bran's tone was soft and flat, leaving Jaime bewildered. With no knowledge of what being the Three Eyed Raven meant, he decided to leave things as they were and turned his attention back to Sam.

"Very simply, please inform her that I've arrived safely and that I send my love," Jaime said. "Oh and as I will most likely be engaged when not asleep, would it be possible for you to continue to send a raven, perhaps every few days, informing her I'm still alive?"

Samwell pulled a clean piece of parchment and began writing the note to Brienne and then glanced up at Jaime from beneath his brow.

"I know this may seem irregular but if you knew my wife, you'd understand."

"My lady is quite headstrong as well." Sam chuckled. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you," Jaime said. Turning to leave, he glanced back one final time at Bran. He sat quietly, gazing into the flames of the hearth.

"Ser Jaime?" Bran spoke. Jaime did not look on him but stopped and rested his hand on the door handle, gazing down at the floor. "Your debts are all cleared. You've paid them all."

Jaime waited a moment more and then raised his head and carried on to meet with the King.

~:~:~:~

Upon reaching the King's solar, Jaime was welcomed into the room by Ser Davos, and his eyes smiled when at last he saw his brother.

"Well it's about time," Tyrion said, reaching out for Jaime's hand and then covering it with his other with an embracing handshake. "You look well. I take it married life is agreeing with you?"

"Never felt better brother. You're looking well too," Jaime remarked and then glanced about the room. "Well, I'm here. How may I help?"

"First, we'll give you the latest information on where we stand with the Night's King's army and their position, or should I say, their absolute scattering throughout the North," Aegon said, as he stood looking down at a large map of Westeros.

Jaime stepped to Aegon's side to get a better view of the map and began pointing to where they had seen the small groups of Wights in the Vale, and briefly described how they'd managed to defeat them as well as driving out the Golden Company.

"You say there were no more than a hundred of them?" Aegon asked.

"We assumed they were stragglers who'd broken off from the whole army, but since we know nothing of their behaviors other than what we've seen, that was our best guess."

"According to Bran, they've leveled everything from Molestown to Last Hearth. We have reports they've been seen as far East as Karhold and as far west as Deepwood Motte. What we can't figure out is why they haven't hit us full on yet. I don't know what the Night's King is waiting for."

"I have to admit, when they came upon us in the Vale, I was certain they'd attacked Winterfell," Jaime said.

"Oh we've been fighting them back alright but a few hundred here a few hundred there. The fires keep them back as well but it's the waiting that's making this all too unnerving," said Davos.

"How many men do you have?" Jaime asked.

"Twenty thousand but that isn't the problem," Tyrion said. "The problem is we're running low on supplies. Everyone who can fight has arrived and they've been fighting, but all of the stores are dangerously low and it's taking far too long for anything to reach us here, if anything is still even available."

"How on Earth are you feeding twenty thousand men?" Jaime asked, wincing at the thought.

"Thankfully, game is plenty and Sansa provided for us well before she left. Most of the banners who came brought wagon loads of everything they had, but we'll be lucky to last another month on our stores," John said. "Thankfully, we have Sam."

"The Maester you mean?" Jaime asked.

"Yes," Aegon answered.

"Sam Tarley isn't a Maester. He's much, much more," Tyrion said. "I'm certain you noticed the bright green flames surrounding the castle when you arrived."

"Wildfire?" Jaime said. He imagined his awe at the dragon ride had left any earthly thing a secondary thought, but as his mind's eye recalled the green flames licking at the snow as they approached, he understood. "Sam Tarley can make wildfire?"

"That isn't all he can do," Jorah Mormont spoke up. "At the Citadel, he cured me of grayscale."

"Then how is this man not wearing a chain?" Jaime asked; his bewilderment shown from his face to his feet.

"We don't care about chains," said Aegon. His eyes followed Daenerys as she entered the room.

"Your Grace," each man said as she walked to the table and stood next to Aegon.

"I take it we're all caught up then?" she asked, eyeing them all. "Ser Jaime, as you've seen, the dead have spread out east to west. Our thought is the Night's King intends to surround us on all sides and then attack."

"Based on what I've heard so far I'd say that's a safe and logical assumption. How much wildfire do you have? I mean to say, you said back at Kings Landing there were at least a hundred thousand of those things. If you've managed to kill a few thousand, that still leaves more than we have the ability to defeat."

"With that attitude, no," Davos chimed in.

"What I'm trying to say is we need to be realistic about this. You have two dragons. Surely they can wipe out thousands in a single pass over. I've seen it with my own eyes, and you have enough dragon glass for how many soldiers?" Jaime asked.

"Not enough," Aegon said.

"It sounds to me like wildfire is our only other defense," Jaime said.

"Not exactly," said Tyrion. "You may find this difficult to believe but we also have something even in our dreams we couldn't have imagined. May I?" Tyrion said, holding out his hands to Ser Davos and nodding towards his sword.

Davos pulled the sword slowly from his sheath and handed it carefully to Tyrion, who in turn, handed it to Jaime.

"Wait, this is…"

"Valyrian steel," Tyrion interrupted, watching Jaime examine the blade.

"Although I appreciate a Valyrian steel sword as much as the next person, a few of these won't mean much when you're surrounded by hundreds of those things."

"No brother, perhaps not. However, what if we told you that every man and woman in Winterfell—every soldier does or will carry a Valyrian steel blade?"

"Impossible," Jamie scoffed. "Besides, what if they did?"

"Valyrian steel kills them too. Shatters the Wight Walkers like glass," Jorah said.

"You're telling me you are making Valyrian steel here?" Jaime rubbed at his brow and took one step back away from the table. "How?" he asked in a rasp of disbelief.

"Sam," Aegon said, folding his arms at his chest and glancing about the room at all the knowing eyes glancing back.

"So this…Sam, he's a blacksmith as well?" Jaime asked over a chuckle.

"Of course not, but Gendry is. Gendry Waters…" Aegon answered.

"Robert Baratheon's bastard son…his only living son," Davos said. "I found him in Flea Bottom. Not only can he make the blades, he's been re-forging armor as well."

"Dragon fire," Daenerys said. "Samwell brought every book on how to defeat the dead that he could carry from the Citadel. Magic was reborn the day my dragons came into the world and we cannot win this war without it or them. So, you see, we believe with our knowledge and these weapons, the battlefield has been leveled against them. While magic lives in the world, for as long as it lasts, we have to use it to our advantage."

Jaime was taking a moment to process everything he'd just heard. He was overwhelmed, yet the idea that they might just be able to win this war, and that they all may actually have the dawn and the new world they'd dreamed of, caused his heart to beat fast and strong. "I do believe you're right, your Grace. We can do this. Together, we will defeat the Night's King's army."

"There's just the thing about Viserion. He has the undead dragon," Tyrion said, raising his brow and pressing his lips tightly together.

"But you still have two," Jaime said, turning to Daenerys. "Surely two against one are good odds."

"Yes, they are our only hope of taking Viserion down. However, the undead blue flame is something we know nothing about. Bran said it melted the wall at Eastwatch as if it were no more than a snow bank. Perhaps the Night's King's magic is stronger. Unfortunately we won't know until the time comes." Daenerys voice softened and her dread of losing her two remaining dragons was felt by all, as their faces grew sullen.

"Qyburn's Scorpion," Jaime said. A tone of excitement filled his voice. "If Samwell can recreate wildfire and Valyrian steel, surely he can design one as well."

"Surely," Tyrion said. "We'll get him to work on that immediately. I'll assist him with that."

"I have one more question before we get down to our battle plans," Jaime said drawing all of their attention to him. "How many shovels do you have and how soon may we start digging the trenches?"

~:~:~:~

Sansa had occupied Brienne for most of the evening after Jaime left, by keeping her company in her chamber and teaching her to sew. Having never had any interest in such things, Brienne hadn't taken advantage of learning anything most young ladies learned as a child. After she'd pricked her finger several times, she'd squealed at her septa Roelle that her hands were built for larger pointed things, and a sword would fit better in her hands than a needle. She learned only to mend a seam and no more and even then, she swore she'd never do it herself unless she absolutely had no choice. Every piece of embroidery or cloth she'd touched was covered in droplets of her own blood, as a stark reminder that her sword may someday bear blood as well, but it would not be her own.

"Don't worry Lady Brienne, it takes a long time to learn these things and even longer when you have no interest in them. I just thought you may want to try and make something for the baby," Sansa smiled, reaching over and placing her hand atop Brienne's.

"It's a lovely thought. Perhaps once we receive word that Jaime has arrived at Winterfell, my mind will be at ease enough to stop the trembling in my hands."

"Can I get you ladies anything?" Podrick asked. He'd been sitting for hours reading but mostly nodding off in his chair.

"Thank you Pod but no. Honestly, I think I'd like to rest. Thank you both for your company," Brienne said, handing the linen cloth and sewing needle to Sansa.

"Of course. We'll see you in the morning," Sansa said. She stood and leaned over, kissing Brienne lightly on her cheek as Podrick held the door open for her.

"Milady, I'm sure you'll be safe but please bolt the door," Podrick said, and pulled it closed behind them.

Brienne stood and did as Podrick asked, and then pushed two more logs into the fire in the hearth. She changed into her night clothes and picked a book from the shelf to read to tire her eyes. As she turned the pages, her thoughts were only of Jaime. Even ten pages into the book, she couldn't recall a single word of it from her wandering worries and fears. Defeated, she tossed the book to the floor and snatched Jaime's pillow, tucking up against her beneath the blankets and squeezing it tightly. "By the old Gods and the new, Jaime Lannister, you will return to me," she whispered aloud to herself.

The next time her eyes opened, it was morning. She'd slept a hard and dreamless sleep which saddened her. She hoped to dream of him but there was nothing to recall from her slumber, only that it felt as if she'd only slept for several minutes, not many hours. She raised her head in the cold darkness and sat up, realizing the fire had gone out. The need to retch came upon her as it had for weeks and retch she did and then she poured a cup of water and sat until the sickness passed.

Once she was able to stand, she built a new fire and stepped to the small desk to light the candle holders, and sit down to write her first letter to her absent husband. She pulled the desk drawer out slowly to retrieve a sheet of fresh parchment. When the flame took hold of the candles, she saw his face. There before her was his likeness, drawn and painted beautifully, no doubt by Sansa's hand. She must have left it there for Brienne to find the night before. Brienne picked it up carefully, and ran her fingertips lightly over the portrait, tracing Jaime's features as if he were there in front of her in the flesh. "My darling…" she whispered aloud and then pressed the painting to her lips gently so as not to damage it. "I must find a suitable frame for you." She sighed. "Oh Sansa, you sweetling."

Brienne finished her first letter and blew on it to dry. She'd thought of how she'd tugged and pleaded at Jaime's heart prior to his departure and felt guilty for it. She knew the call to duty and the price of honor. The cost of it all was more than gold and the rewards worth more than diamonds. The last thing he'd needed was guilt or worry. She knew she'd softened so much inside of his love, and also because of their child. Her emotions came in like waves crashing to the shore and often unexpectedly—much like when her moon blood came but now, the tide rushed in at will, knocking her off balance and stirring her to tears.

Upon her thoughts, she took another clean piece of parchment from the drawer and revised her letter. Releasing him from any remorse or guilt he may have had at going back to Winterfell, and reassuring him that she would be fine.

_My Dearest Jaime,_  
Our first night apart was spent at sewing lessons from Sansa. She and Pod are keeping me occupied and softening my worries. I slept well. They say pregnant women should get a lot of sleep. The baby must know this because even now, I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to write to you. I adore you with all that I am. Not only for how wonderful you are, but because of whom you are as a man. Your bravery and your heart I share with all the world for those parts of you aren't mine to own.  
Until I see you again. All my love,  
Brienne 

Once she'd washed and dressed, she hand delivered the letter to Maester Colemon and met Sansa and Podrick to break their fast together in the dining hall. The letter had been the beginning of her healing at his absence. She'd decided not to wallow in it but rather behave as she knew Jaime would want. She and Sansa took long walks throughout the castle arm in arm, and even strolled out into the courtyard and built snow castles together when the weather was tolerable. Then at night before she slept, she would lie awake and speak to his portrait before writing to tell him of her day. All the while, their child grew, and as the days passed and his letters came, the waves at last began to calm. Simply knowing he lived was enough to keep her hopes alive.


	26. Red Mud Green Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wight Walkers, dragons, fire, blood, and a few surprises find Jaime up to his neck in trouble. Can he survive it all in one piece? Will Brienne be able to withstand their separation, not knowing if he's dead or alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience. This is a long chapter but battle scenes…oh battle scenes. The holidays got the better of me as did a bout of strep throat. Excuses over. I hope you enjoy.

_My Dearest Brienne,_

_Though it’s been but a fortnight, so much has happened. To explain it all would take more messages than a murder of ravens could carry. All of this I will save for when I return to you. I do not know when I will be able to send word again. The battle shall be upon us soon. Pray for our souls._

_Forever,_

_Jaime_

Brienne clutched the letter to her chest. As much as she had longed for word from Jaime, her heart was now filled with dread. She had to call on all the faith she possessed and believe that life would win, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think there would not be tremendous losses. _They must win_ , she thought. _They must find a way to beat the Nights King and his army_.

After a few moments, she dried her tears and placed the letter in their desk drawer with the others. She decided to write to her father and pour out her heart to him of everything she was experiencing. She wanted to go home. With Euron Greyjoy somewhere in the Narrow Sea, it was impossible, so words on parchment would have to suffice for now.

Within the hour, she would sup with Sansa and Podrick and put on her bravest face. She was sure they too had received word that the battle was near. Sansa would have worries of her own, but at least she had Pod there to support her and give her comfort. Brienne was accustomed to the harsh realities of life, and over time she’d learned to rely on herself to make it through. Only now, those days alone were so far behind her, she hoped the resolve to withstand the pain and worry was still there.

With her letter finished, she washed and dressed for supper. She chose Jaime’s favorite gown. It was deep blue. The trim embroidered with silver thread in curls like that of waves, that washed down around her neckline and flowed onward to where the gown brushed the floor. She combed and swept her hair back behind her ears, and even wore a silver hair clip Sansa had given her. After one long last look in the mirror, she took a deep breath and turned for the chamber door.

~:~:~:~

In Winterfell, the fires raged on. The trenches surrounding the castle burned bright green as they had for weeks, and the new ones that Jaime had ordered, burned as well. From the edges of the Wolfswood west of Winterfell, the trenches spread north for a league and eastward, until they turned south again in a semi-circle. It was as if a wall of fire had replaced the wall of ice that once guarded the south. They had their forces to hold back the dead army and two dragons to fight the undead Viserion, but would it be enough?

Wagons carefully transported the wild fire to keep the flames lit. As soon as new batches were made, they were carried carefully away to fuel the fires; some of which reached heights of a hundred feet. Their swirling green towers of light reached into the night sky, causing the white dressing on distant trees to sparkle like emeralds. The intense heat caused the ground to run wet with mud for half a hundred feet both north and south of the flame. No man living could get within half a mile of them. The pots of wildfire had to be catapulted to the trenches. Jaime had been very busy at his work, as had the soldiers, who now doubled as carpenters and builders.

Inside the castle, the counsel of generals gathered for their final meeting. The room was silent but for small, low discussions that swiftly hushed as King Aegon stepped to his seat at the head of the long table and spoke. “My Lords, we have made every preparation. We know what kills them and how. We do not, nor will we have their numbers, but we are well supplied, and our armies are ready.”

“The battle plans are in place your Grace,” said Ser Davos. “There’s nothing left for us to do but fight.”

“I’ll ride out tonight and check in with all of our battalions. We have the Unsullied stationed just below the northern mud lines, the Dothraki spread out on the perimeter of the castle and all our other banners on the southeast fields. We’ve still wagon loads of wildfire for each catapult and more dragon glass arrows than I could count,” Jaime said.

“That leaves the Nights King and Wight Walkers your Grace,” said Jorah Mormont. “We’ve seen them walk through fire before.”

“Not wildfire we haven’t. Not that I’m saying he can’t or won’t but those screaming corpses will burn, we’ve seen that too,” Ser Davos said.

“We have wildfire, dragon glass and Valyrian steel. We also have Drogon and Rhaegal. We are more than ready,” Daenerys said, rising to her feet. “And we have the Scorpions and Valyrian steel harpoons. I suggest we all sup well and get some sleep. The dead neither eat nor sleep so this may be our last opportunity for both.” Daenerys glanced about the room and then turned to King Aegon.

“I expect very little sleep, but Bran will keep us informed via the ravens. As at the wall, the horn will be our call to arms. May the Gods have our backs.” Aegon nodded to excuse them and they headed off to their duties.

Jaime followed through and mounted his horse to assess the battalions as he’d planned. He met with Grey Worm and they rode together. His intension was to begin at the northern mud line below the great ring of wildfire, but they’d only traveled about half way when the horn sounded. Like the Night’s Watch, one blast was to herald arriving brothers. Two, was to warn of an attack and three, was for Wight Walkers. Jaime and Grey Worm paused waiting for a second blast, but it didn’t come.

“Who could it be?” Grey Worm turned to Jaime and asked.

“You know about as much as I do. Keep going and muster your men. I’ll head back to find out.” Jaime pulled his steed around by the reins and galloped off. A gallop soon became a charge until within minutes, the banners came into view in the glowing green firelight surrounding the front gate of Winterfell. They appeared brown, no red. They were Lannister banners.

“Dear God,” he muttered aloud, “But why only one blast? Surely they’re coming to fight.”

As he approached, he could see the crossbows pointed from the turrets at the arriving soldiers below. He surmised there were perhaps two thousand, maybe three. Closer and closer still he rode until he’d pulled his horse back into no more than a trot. He was at last within ear shot of the exchange between the Dothraki commander, and the Lannister commander.

“We’ve come from Riverrun!” the Lannister commander shouted as he dismounted. “We’re here to join the fight! We ask to speak with Ser Jaime!”

“Lannister soldiers are enemy of our queen. We should kill you now,” Qhono shouted.

“Qhono, wait!” Jaime cried out as his horse cantered up to them. By Jaime’s reckoning, there were close to five hundred on horseback and the rest on foot. They appeared weak, tired and starving. “Cersei wouldn’t have sent these men here.” Jaime dismounted and stepped to the Lannister commander. “Is that you, Ser Daven?”

“It is my Lord,” Daven Lannister answered and bowed.

Jaime leaned back and away from his kinsman and studied him for a moment. He’d not laid eyes on Daven since the siege at Riverrun. The man appeared to have aged considerably on the journey. “Why are you here?” Jaime was suspect and glanced sideways at the man.

“We fight for you my Lord, not the Queen. She’s lost all sense of anything.”

“What do you mean?” Jaime was intrigued.

“We received word from King’s Landing that you’d left to fight in the North. To…fight the dead. We didn’t believe it at first, but word kept coming that this dead army was real.”

“So, we still have allies in Kings Landing then?” Jaime asked.

“Not anymore. The Golden Company arrived over a month ago. After the Queen’s brief internment at the loss of her babe, she took that Greyjoy monster into the Red Keep. He ordered the leader of the Golden Company, a…Harry Strickland, as Lord Commander of her armies. He ordered all regiments south to capture any castle and house and hold them and to slaughter anyone who stood in their way.”

“My question was why are you here?” Jaime asked again.

“Many of us my Lord…they burned our homes, our families, the children ser. They burned everything in their paths and what they didn’t burn they pillaged. You were, and are, our only Lord Commander. As soon as word came of their craven acts, I gathered up our army and headed north,” Ser Daven said, lowering his head.

Jaime stepped forward and placed his left hand on his kinsman’s shoulder. “The dead will be upon us soon. I’ll see you’re all armed properly and fed as well.”

“There were three years of provisions at Riverrun my Lord. We carried most of it with us, but we rationed much of it on our journey in case you were in need here at Winterfell.”

“Feed your men and horses. They’ll need every ounce of strength for this fight and make camp anywhere in the fields. Your orders will be to burn any living man who falls to the dead whenever possible, but to kill as many of those things as you can. Those are the only orders you’ll need.” Jaime turned to Qhono and said, “See that these men are armed with dragon glass. I’ll inform King Aegon of their arrival.”

Qhono nodded and his men backed off into their positions. He called out in Dothraki to his men to retrieve as much dragon glass as there was available to arm the Lannister soldiers. Jaime led his horse through the gates and headed off to find Aegon.

Upon arriving at Aegon’s solar, he overheard voices coming from inside the room and noticed Tyrion, waiting in the shadows.

“Well, hello brother. Are you here for an audience with the King as well?” Tyrion asked, coming into the light of the torch on the wall next to the door.

“I am indeed. Our forces have just grown by over two thousand men—Lannister soldiers from the Riverlands. Cousin Daven received word that Cersei, having taken Euron into her loving arms, has lost her bloody mind and they chose to come and join us.”

“Lost her bloody mind? I’d assumed that was a birth defect. However, the additional forces are all too welcome. I’m certain we have you to thank for that,” Tyrion snickered over a grin.

They both fell quiet as the voices grew louder behind the door. Tyrion looked up at Jaime’s bewildered expression and raised an eyebrow. “They’ve quite the tumultuous relationship.”

Jaime started to speak, and Tyrion hushed him, placing a finger to his lips as Jaime winced and whispered, “I don’t think we should be listening to any of this.”

From behind the door, the discussion was nearly un-muffled. The words “The child” had come up several times as well as “It’s too dangerous,” and “what if you’re killed?” Jaime imagined a similar discussion he’d had and all it did was ignite memories of Brienne and his worry for her and their child. Every moment of his days, were now spent fending off memories and thoughts of them.  

“Clearly the Stark’s didn’t concern themselves with eavesdroppers. Either that, or Lord Ned and Lady Catelyn never argued loudly. That can be the only explanation as to their thin chamber doors,” Tyrion whispered back.

“This is ridiculous,” Jaime scoffed.

“The Targaryen’s are a fiery bunch I’d say,” Tyrion commented.

“I’ve waited long enough,” Jaime said, and knocked hard on the door.

Suddenly there was silence. The door pulled open. “Good evening my Lady,” Aegon said as Queen Daenerys swept between Jaime and Tyrion and out of sight. “Pardon my Lords.”

“May we?” Tyrion asked, waving his hand towards the room.

“Of course,”Aegon answered, welcoming them in.

Jaime relayed everything Ser Daven had shared. Aegon was grateful but Jaime had no time for thanks or gratitude. He excused himself and headed off again to take his ride to assess their battlements before he could at last lay down his head for the night.

It had taken him until midnight to again reach the castle gates. Drogon and Rhaegal circled the castle above him. He watched, no longer with amazement but with a sense of gratitude in knowing these marvelous beasts were on their fighting side.

Exhausted and hungry, he dismounted and headed to the great hall. Aegon had ordered food be readily available at all hours due to their state of alert. Jaime filled a large mug with ale and carried it to a lone seat at one of the long, heavy wood tables that filled the hall. Within moments, a plate of hot rabbit stew and a loaf of fresh bread was placed in front of him. He couldn’t eat it fast enough. He hadn’t eaten since he’d broken his fast twelve hours before.

The next thing he knew, a young serving boy was nudging him on the shoulder. He’d fallen asleep at his meal and nearly dipped his head into his empty bowl of stew. “Milord, I’d leave you to sleep but I need the bowl. More men are comin’ in to eat,” the lad said.

Jaime rubbed at his eyes and swallowed down the rest of his ale. “Sorry, lad,” he groaned, and pushed himself to his feet.

  Jaime didn’t know how long he’d been abed, but when the horn’s blast came three times, he shot up and scrambled to put on his armor. The shouts of cries throughout the castle came from every direction. He joined them as he raced through the stone corridors until he reached the courtyard.

“Ser Jaime!” he heard Aegon call out, running to catch up with him. “Bran has sighted the army of the dead no more than a mile north.”

Jaime raced shoulder to shoulder with Aegon to where their horses awaited them, readied and held at the harness by squires. “Arm yourselves lads,” Jaime told them as he and Aegon mounted and charged out through the castle gates.

“I’m going north to the mud line. We’ll hit them with the archers from the platforms first,” Jaime said to Aegon as they stopped their horses aside each other, just outside the gates.

“I’m going to meet Daenerys and the dragons. I’ll see you at the victory feast when the sun rises, Ser Jaime,” Aegon said, nodded, and rode off towards the eastern fields.

Jaime’s eyes searched the landscape. It was covered as far as the eye could see with regiments of every color. It appeared even more banner men had arrived during the night. His chest swelled with cold breath as snow began to fall. He pulled his hood up over head and wrapped his red scarf about his face until only his eyes shown. Suddenly, those eyes caught a glimpse of a lone rider on a black horse, galloping through the snow towards him. It only took a moment for him to discern it was a woman.

“My Lady, you shouldn’t be here!” he called out as she approached him. To Jaime, the night grew eerily quiet. Despite the thousands of soldiers surrounding them, he could almost hear the snow as it pinged softly against his armor as she approached him.

“I am here to help you win this war,” the woman said, pulling back her hood to reveal two large dark eyes and skin the color of milk. Her hair was deep red and matched her gown, which draped around her beneath her cloak and clung to her horse.

“Who are you?” Jaime shouted.

“She’s the Red Witch!” Jaime heard a voice come from behind him. He turned in his saddle to find Ser Davos, riding to his side. “You’re a dead woman when the King sees ye!”

“Good. Otherwise, I’ll have made this journey for nothing.”

“I’ll leave you to sort this out,” Jaime said to Davos, and rode off to the northern mudline to find Grey Worm.

~:~:~:~

“Ser Jaime, you should go back,” Grey Worm shouted upon seeing Jaime arrive. He slowed his horse and leapt to the muddy ground with a splat.

“I don’t know what’s worse the snow or this mud,” Jaime muttered, approaching Grey Worm.

“At least we do not freeze to death,” Grey Worm replied. “You should go back. I am commander of the Unsullied. I will keep the fire lit.”

“I have complete faith in you and your men. I’m making one final round of our troops and then I’ll go and join my men.”

“Your men?”

“Yes. The army that approached was my battalion from the Riverlands. They came to fight with us.”

“More soldiers is good. Go to them, Ser Jaime. There is no more time. Look,” Grey Worm said and pointed north. Jaime’s eyes widened in both awe and fear, as clouds of what appeared to be an ice fog began breaking through the trees.

Jaime raced to his mount and rode up to Grey Worm. “Remember, archers first with dragon glass. Do not engage them hand to hand unless you have no other choice.”

“I assure you, we have no desire to get that close,” said Grey Worm.

Jaime pulled his horse around and headed back towards the castle. Behind him, he could already hear the screams of the undead and he looked back over his shoulder. His face alit in green light, the terror he’d felt at the dragon pit at the sight of one of those things magnified as he watched. Hundreds of orange fireballs launched into the sky, mixing into the green flame pillars. He turned in his saddle and leaned forward, shouting at his horse, “Yah! Go boy!” as the big white stallion raced back towards Winterfell. The speed of the horse gave him the sensation of flying, as if the animal’s hooves weren’t even touching the ground.

“Qhono! Ready your men! The dead are at the northern wild fire trenches!” Jaime shouted and then sprinted through the open gate. “Where’s the King?” he shouted at the first soldier he saw.

“He’s in the field milord. He’s riding north with the Brotherhood and that Red Woman.”

Jaime turned and sped off to gather the Lannister army and follow King Aegon. Ser Daven and his troops were already assembled and at the ready. Jaime led them off into the night, headed for the northern mudline. Suddenly, he heard the screech and roar of Drogon above them. He felt a sense of relief. With every pound of Drogon’s great wings, hope of victory grew within him.

Close behind Drogon, Rhaegal flew until he swooped low over the field before them and landed in the snow. Suddenly, from Jaime’s left, out of the night he saw a horse speeding towards the great beast and stop. Jaime pulled back on the reins of his horse and waved to slow his troops as well to wait for the dragon to rise again into the sky. They watched silently as the man dismounted his horse and ran to Rhaegal. Without hesitation, Jaime gave his horse a kick and galloped towards the huge animal to get a better look.

“Get back!” he heard a voice call out. He knew the voice was Aegon.

Jaime slowed his horse to a stop and watched as Aegon climbed frantically up the huge wing of the beast and climbed onto its back as if he’d done it a hundred times before. Aegon leaned into Rhaegal, and the animal rose onto its back legs and flapped its enormous wings until it rose again into the air and flew off.

Giving the signal to continue, Jaime led the charge towards the battle. The ground shook beneath the snow as hundreds of horses joined them, flanking them from the east. Jaime knew it was Qhono and the Dothraki by the screams and shouts of the riders. Side by side the two great forces flooded the field, charging forward toward the battle. Snow picked up from the ground in chunks and slabs of white, flinging it into the air around them as they thundered on. The heat from the fires liquefied the snow at the mud line, churning the ground to mush beneath their horse’s hooves, now covering them in the thick muck.

The Unsullied archers stood on the raised platforms behind the battlefield, loading their bows with their fire tipped arrows and launching them in unison into the night sky. Their targets screeched and screamed with every volley, but they did not stop coming unless the fire took hold and pulled them to the ground. Hundreds and then thousands of them were swallowed up in the trenches and incinerated almost immediately, and yet still they came. Jaime could see them moving along outside of the fire lines heading towards the eastern perimeter of the wild fire.

“This way!” he shouted to his men as he wheeled the horse around in the mud. It lost its footing and slid in the slick brown puddles and went down on one knee, snapping its leg instantly. The horse whinnied and squealed in pain as Jaime flew from his saddle to the ground. He landed flat on his back and the horse rolled onto his right leg. He kicked at the wounded animal trying to push it off, but the effort was futile. Suddenly, he felt himself being taken up under the arms, as four Dothraki riders pulled the horse through the slick mud while the two men who’d taken hold of him, freed him and raised him to his feet.

As quickly as they’d released him, they were back on their horses and at the charge, leaving Jaime alone and on foot. He drew his sword and tried to run but his leg was numb and cramped in pain. He cried out, dragging it as he struggled to catch up to the fight.

“Commander!” he heard a man call out, and he turned in the direction of the voice. “Take my mount!” The soldier shouted, leaping from his horse before it had even come to a full stop. He handed off the reins to Jaime and with a running start, flung himself onto the back of a coal black stallion, ridden by a fellow cavalryman.

Jaime struggled to mount the beast. It was spooked and pulling away due to the fires and the dancing dragons above. He snatched off his cloak and tossed it over the animals face, covering its eyes. A few heartbeats later, the horse calmed and Jaime sprang up into the saddle, whipping off the cloak and tossing it away.

“Yah!” he shouted as the horse reared up and then gathered itself beneath him. He pulled it around again and again. The smoke and ash from the fires were being pressed low to the ground by the icy fog, making it nearly impossible to see. Then the sound pierced his eardrums like the squeal and howl of a dying animal. His eyes shot up. There above him out of the icy clouds appeared a pale, ragged and craven monster. Torn flesh hung from its belly to its throat and yet, ice blue fire sprayed like boiling icicles from its gaping jaws.

Jaime’s eyes watered. He coughed and spat out the smell and taste yet again, of burning flesh of both the living and the dead. He spurred the horse on with a hard kick and galloped in the direction he’d sent his men. The horse sped up. Closer and louder—their shouts and screams ringing in his ears put grave and bloody images in his smoke blinded mind. He wanted to call them to retreat but in the chaos, he knew his voice would not be heard. _Fight! Just fight!_ He thought, crashing headlong into the melee.

He wrapped the reins tightly around his golden hand and drew his sword with the other. The ground was littered with bones and the broken bodies of the Others. He rode hard, swinging his sword into packs of Wights, laying them down hard with Valyrian steel. There were also dozens of Lannister soldiers laid low. _We have to burn them,_ he thought, and sped off until he spotted a burning torch, swinging in the distance and raced towards it.

One of the Lannister soldiers was using it to fight off the Wights, beating them and setting them ablaze. As the man swung again, Jaime sheathed his sword and rode up, snatching the torch from the man’s hand. “Here!” Jaime said, pulling his dragon glass dagger from his belt and tossing it to the man as he rode away, setting the dead men afire as he went.

Drogon and Daenerys appeared overhead, low and fast. Jaime spun westward and his eyes followed them as they turned north. Drogon was pursuing the pale undead, Viserion. Following his brother nose to tail was Rhaegal and Aegon. There was no time to pause at even this surreal spectacle. He still had to fight the battle on Earth and set fire to the dead. He continued on until he felt as if his arm was tearing free of his body.

Daylight was breaking. The gray icy fog and smoke began to turn white and when Jaime turned towards the trees, he could see between them and beyond from the white ground to the sky. The green fires still glowed in the distance yet as the night’s frost began to lift, he saw the Others heading away, marching northward from the battle. He heard Drogon’s great screech in the distance growing closer as the world went quiet otherwise.

He dismounted and stood. The mud and snow and blood covered the soles of his boots up to his insteps. The horse’s ragged breath blew hot, freezing in clouds about its head. Jaime lumbered, pulling the exhausted animal behind him by the reins, following Drogon as he coasted overhead into an empty space on the field before him and landed.

His steps quickened as he saw Aegon, holding Daenerys in his arms as he tried to descend Drogon’s wing. Jaime slipped in the mud and fell and then pushed himself back to his feet, now running towards them.                


	27. South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war rages on at Winterfell but what does the Nights King want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was a long time coming. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up by this weekend. However, we must get through this battle to reach the conclusion for Jaime. What took me so long was research. I have a lot of theories on how all of this will end so of course, what I am writing is all just my own thoughts combined with other theories I have followed on the internet from sources I respect. We are all dreamers in a way but sometimes those dreams turn out to be nightmares.

Aegon plodded through the muddy slush with Daenerys in his arms, headed towards Jaime. She was unconscious and hung in his arms like a broken doll. “Lannister! Your horse!” Jaime pulled the horse around and Aegon pushed Daenerys onto the saddle, and leapt onto the horse with her. “I’ve got to get her to the castle and to the Maester,” he said, pulling Daenerys against him.

“The Wights?”

“They’ve pulled back…for now. I’m certain they’ll be back at us soon. The Nights King isn’t giving up, but Drogon and Rhaegal nearly put Viserion down. I’ll send a rider back for you. We need to get our armies ready for the next battle.” Aegon said and was off, riding hard towards the castle.

Jaime started walking back towards the Lannister army, but his leg ached and throbbed from where his horse had fallen on him. He doubted if he could make it to the next fight, but he knew he had to. He was wet and chilled to the bone, and when the rider arrived with a fresh horse, he took it and headed back to the castle instead.

The air was thick with smoke. The smell of burning flesh assaulted him from every direction. He pulled his scarf up across his nose and mouth to alleviate it, but it was too late. The odor was so deep inside of him there was no way to remove it once it got in. Piles of dead men from every banner burned as if they were no more than mounds of wood. It had to be done, but even knowing that did not make it any less unpleasant. He could hear the woosh and thump of the catapults in the distance, feeding the wildfire pits, but it was the sound of men crying out, shrieking in the pain of death that tore at him the most.

“Aegon?” Jaime asked as he entered the castle and came upon a young squire.

“They’re with the Maester in the King’s chambers, Ser,” the lad said solemnly, lowering his head.

Jaime rushed through the crowded corridors, lined with the injured and those tending to them. Everyone and everything smelled like fire. His mouth was parched. He rushed to a cart against the wall, loaded with pitchers of water and a basin. Splashing the water over his soot covered face, he washed away as much mud and ash as he could, and then poured a cup of water and downed it in one drink. He filled the cup again and leaned down to a man lying against the wall. The man was burned from his right shoulder to his hand. Jaime reached out the cup and held it to the man’s lips.

“Thank you, Ser,” he said with a rasp.

“Someone will be along soon to help you,” Jaime muttered, not sure if it was the truth or a lie. A heartbeat later, he was off again to find Aegon and Daenerys. 

When Jaime reached Aegon’s chamber, the door was open. Daenerys was lying on the bed and the Maester was blotting a large lump on her forehead with a damp cloth.

“You were very lucky, Your Grace. Now I’d ask if we could clear the room please. I’ll need to examine her fully,” the Maester said. “In her condition, I must assess the full extent of her injuries.” The Maester turned to Aegon and raised his brow.

“I’m staying,” Aegon said.

“The Wight Walkers will be coming back. We need you with us,” Jorah Mormont said.

“I’ll stay, Your Grace. I swear to you I’ll watch over her like she was my own,” said Davos Seaworth.

“Aegon,” Daenerys said in a whisper, as she reached out her hand to him and he clasped it in his and kissed it. “Please, go. I know what you fear. Our child still lives inside of me. Go and finish this or it won’t matter if he lives.” A tear rolled from the corner of her eye and immediately, Jaime’s thoughts went to Brienne and his own unborn child.

“Aegon, she’s right. Let the Maester help her. We need to finish this,” Jaime said, walking to his side.

Aegon leaned over Daenerys and kissed her. “We will end this. I swear it.” He stood and turned to Jaime and nodded once. “Take care of her you hear me?” Aegon said, looking at Davos and the Maester and then raced out the door with Jaime and Jorah close behind.

~:~:~:~

“Fresh horses, now!” Aegon shouted to the squires in the courtyard. They all turned upon hearing riders approaching through the gates. It was Tormund and Beric, returning from the field.

“Tormund, what are our losses?” Aegon asked.

“Not nearly what I feared. As close as we could count, a few hundred. They’re still burning them.” Tormund looked over at Jaime with a sneer, measuring him and then back at Aegon. “The dragons?” he asked.

“We lost Rhaegal but Viserion is down. Drogon tore out his wing. Even an undead dragon can’t fly with only one wing. He’s still deadly, even on the ground but he’ll be a hell of a lot easier to kill with the Scorpion. Jaime, take Tormund and ride back to the northern mud line and have every Scorpion loaded with the Valyrian steel bolts. Ser Jorah, this is a ground fight from here out. No one can ride Drogon but Daenerys. He’s no use to us now.”

“Dragons are much smarter than we give them credit for. Let’s not count Drogon out just yet, Your Grace,” Jorah said.

“Is that how the queen was injured?” Jaime asked.

“Yes. When Viserion came for Rhaegal, she and Drogon came to our defense. Viserion was taking me and Rhaegal down. Daenerys reached out her hand to catch me and lost her hold on Drogon. We fell. Thank the Gods we were almost landed but…she struck her head.” His eyes faded as if he were reliving a nightmare. The light rose back into them as the squires came running with their horses. “Jorah, with me,” was all Aegon said as they rode off.

Jaime and Tormund mounted their horses and Jaime said, “Shall we?”

“A quick word if ye don’t mind,” Tormund answered, bringing his horse around and alongside Jaime’s.

Jaime sat up straight in his saddle, bewildered at the stoic expression on the big red-haired man’s bearded face. “Yes, quick. We have work to do.”

“Do ye love her?”

“Her? Who are you referring to?” Jaime asked. He shifted in his saddle and lowered his brow at Tormund.

“Brienne, the maid of Tarth? Who the fuck do ye think I mean?”

“You mean my wife?” Jaime said, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment. “More than my own life and certainly more than yours.”

Tormund’s eyes lowered for a moment and he seemed to sink a bit in his saddle. He looked up again at Jaime and said, “Good. I don’t know what she saw in a pretty boy like you. But…sometimes ye win, sometimes ye lose.”

“Good man. I hate a sore loser,” Jaime said with a half-smile and rode off through the gates with Tormund close behind.

~:~:~:~

The mist came again just as the sun began to fade away behind the thick clouds and smoke. The battle raged again. Jaime could hear Viserion beyond the green flame and soon after, he saw the ice blue fire. Viserion’s fire mingled with the towers of wildfire that licked at the icy frost as it rose into the night.

“Archers, nock!” Jaime shouted. “Tormund, get those Scorpions aimed and ready!”

“I’ve got it!” Tormund shouted back, racing his horse up the line behind the five loaded Scorpions.

“Draw! Draw men and hold until that beast crosses the fire pit!”

Jaime watched in amazement as the one-winged, battered monster crawled across the pit, straight through the wildfire, until he was sloshing in the mud. The Nights King was not riding him. Jaime rubbed at his eyes and waved away the smoke to make sure, but his eyes had not deceived him.

Just as Viserion raised his head to blast everything in his path, Jaime shouted, “Loose!”

Tormund bellowed his orders to fire the Scorpions as well. It was a direct hit. The beast screeched and screamed for no more than a few moments and then collapsed. Suddenly, the sound of another dragon roared from above. Jaime ducked instinctively, believing Drogon had gone rogue and was flying about overhead. He was wrong.

“It’s Rhaegal!” Jaime shouted at the men. “Load those Scorpions again!”

Rhaegal passed over them through the mist and smoke but made no attempt at incinerating them. The Nights King was riding him yet from what Jaime could discern, they were passing over Winterfell and continuing south.

_What the hell is he doing?_ Jaime thought to himself. He stood bewildered in the mud, watching as the army of dead ceased fighting and began following Rhaegal. They walked slowly at first and then sped up until they were running through the battlefield as if they were trying to catch up to the Nights King.

“Are you seeing this?” Tormund said, racing to Jaime’s side.

Jaime climbed on his horse and spotted Aegon and Jorah, still swinging away at the Wights and cutting them down. The Wights didn’t even fight back. It was as if they were all one body, on a sole mission to keep moving south.

“Aegon! Do we follow them?” Jaime shouted.

“Regroup the armies, and meet me back at the castle! I need to speak with Bran!”

~:~:~:~

With their remaining forces gathered, Aegon called his commanders together in the great hall, to inform them of Bran’s vision.

“Bran’s seen them. They’re heading south but we don’t know where specifically...yet,” Aegon said. Everyone appeared exhausted. Either no one had the strength to speak or had nothing to offer.

“If I may,” Samwell Tarley finally spoke up. He entered the hall with a large scroll beneath his arm. “I’ve been going through all of the scrolls and books and I don’t think they’re headed to Kings Landing.”

“Why not? It’s the heart of Westeros. If he means to take over this country, the capital would be the right place to do it,” Jorah said.

“Is it?” Sam asked, pulling the scroll from beneath his arm and opening it on the long table at the head of the room. “As I said, I’ve been doing a lot of research on the last long night and how the Nights King was driven back. It took the first men and the children of the forest to work together to do it.”

“The children of the forest are all gone now,” Aegon said. “Bran told me of what happened at the Heart Tree.”

“Are they? Do we know that for certain?” Sam asked, giving Aegon a curious glance. “There are Weirwood trees all over Westeros but there’s still a place where they’ve been left untouched. Here,” Sam said, dropping his index finger with a thump down on the map. “The Gods Eye.”

“Of course, the pact,” Aegon said, turning his eyes down at the map.

Jaime was familiar with the tales of the pact between the first men and children of the forest, but he didn’t understand the significance of why the Nights King would want to go there. Everyone else in the room appeared confused as well, and like Jaime, they awaited Sam’s explanation in silence through bewildered eyes.

“Bran explained it to me. I’ll let him explain it to you,” Sam said, turning to the doorway, where Bran sat in his wheeled chair. Missandei aided him to the front of the room.

“The Isle of Faces,” Bran said. “I believe it is the living, beating heart of the world.”

“But I still don’t understand,” Aegon said.

“The children created the Nights King with dragon glass and magic. I don’t believe the children are gone. I believe they live on, at the Isle of Faces in the Godswood. I believe the Nights King is going there to destroy it,” Bran said, staring away into the room. “I think he believes if he destroys the Godswood, he’ll destroy the magic as well and end his reign.”

“Why would he want that? Why would he attack us and provoke mankind into a world war if all he wanted was to die?” Aegon asked.

“He doesn’t want to die. It’s time for a new Nights King. I said his reign was over. It’s time for a new king.” As Bran spoke the words, his eyes turned up and met Aegon’s with a look of knowing.

“What are we standing about for? We have to stop him!” Tormund shouted.

“Deanery’s is injured. Only she can ride Drogon. How do you propose we stop him?” Aegon shouted back.

“You have to ride Drogon, Aegon. It’s the only way to reach the Gods Eye in time and stop him.”

Suddenly Jaime remembered exactly where the Gods Eye was. The Nights King and his army would have to pass the Vale to reach it. “I say we ride after them. No matter where they’re going, they’ll kill and destroy anything in their path. We can’t just sit here and allow that to happen.”

“Ser Jaime is correct. They will cause great devastation throughout the land on their journey. I don’t know if you can stop them, but you’ll have to try,” Bran said.

Aegon took a long deep breath. “Sam, send a raven to every corner of the realm. Warn everyone that the Nights King’s army is marching south. Tell them he has a dragon. Tell them, we couldn’t stop them.”

Jaime swallowed hard and tried to gather his thoughts but all that kept coming back to him was Brienne. He had to believe she was safe or he’d go mad. He wanted to get on a horse and ride for White Harbor, but it was already beyond too late. All he could do now was pray that Bran was right and that the Nights King would make his way to the Gods Eye and not cross into the Vale.

“We need to prepare our armies tonight to follow them south. We still have to take out as many of them as we can. If he wants me, he’ll have to kill me first. Gather all the supplies we can spare. Fill your bellies and meet me on the field at dawn,” Aegon said.

“What about the people in the south?” Jorah asked.

“Their Queen chose not to fight with us in this war. They are at the mercy of the Gods…and her,” Aegon said and swept out of the great hall.

Jaime rushed to Samwell who was rolling up his map. “Sam, can you…”

“I understand, Ser Jaime. There will of course be a raven to the Eyrie. If you’d like to follow me, you’re more than welcome to write it yourself. As it stands, I’ll be writing all night.”

Jaime nodded and followed Sam.


	28. The Lie in the Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is as it appears. Sometimes we are all just Jon Snow. However, as Tyrion once said, "A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone." A song of ice and fire...it was right there the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: So much research. It’s been a while but I hope this is worth the wait. We’re definitely nearing the end. This is a long one but a lot went into it. I’m hoping our heroes can make it and survive to see the dawn!

_My darling wife,_

_Despite our best efforts and losses, we could not defeat the Others. They carry on southward. Their destination is a mystery we’ve yet to reveal. At dawn we begin our trek after them. They follow the undead Night King upon the now dead, devil beast. Pray for us. I shall pray they continue south beyond the Vale or that we might end them long before they reach whatever destination they seek._

_From this day until my last day,_

_Your Loving Husband, Jaime_

Brienne’s hands trembled as she read the scroll. Sansa had been at her side when the message arrived from Winterfell. Thankfully, she’d convinced Brienne to sit before reading it else she believed her friend may have lost the strength to stand.

“He’s alive, Brienne,” Sansa said, wrapping her arm around Brienne’s shoulder. “Alive and still fighting.”

“This Night King is heading south. Who knows where he’s going or if more of those things will find their way here,” Brienne said softly, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“Bronn will protect us as he did before.”

“Those were only stragglers. There are probably still close to a hundred-thousand, as Queen Daenerys said at the dragon pit. There aren’t enough soldiers in the entire realm to fight them all.” Brienne swiped the tears from her cheeks and turned to Sansa. “We have to notify Bronn so he can prepare. Fire kills them so it’s fire that will await them.”

“Perhaps we should let Bronn handle it himself. I’m certain he’ll know what’s best. Right now you need to focus on the fact that Ser Jaime is alive and heading south behind the Wights with Aegon and the armies. You and the baby are safe, and we’ll stay that way as long as we remain up here in the Eyrie,” Sansa said, taking the scroll from Brienne’s hand. “I’ll see this to Pod.” Sansa rose and poured Brienne a cup of goat’s milk. As she opened the door, she looked back and said, “I’ll send someone to tend to your fire and bring your supper. Oh, and I’ll be back later with a project for us to work on to pass the evening.”

Brienne sat in silence for several minutes. Prayer after prayer passed through her mind until the anguish and loneliness made her head ache. She turned to the drawing of Jaime on her desk and again, decided to write down her thoughts. This time, she wrote to their unborn child.

_My dearest love,_

_Your father is alive. He still fights among the living in the north and has informed me the armies are now coming south, following the army of the dead. We don’t know which way they will turn or if they will turn at all, but we are blessed with a safe place of refuge and many friends to guard us. I hope you will meet your father someday. He is not only beautiful and strong and brave, he is gentle and kind of heart. His love for us goes beyond war and distance. If I close my eyes I can feel his presence as if he were still by our side. We must be strong little one. We must be brave too and when he returns to us, he will know our love for him saved us._

_Your loving mother, Brienne_

 Within the hour, one of the young serving girls had come and brought Brienne her supper, a bundle of candles, and made up her bed with fresh linens. All Brienne could imagine was her beloved husband, sleeping in a tent tonight if he was lucky, perhaps he’d have furs to warm him and something to eat. It was even colder in the north. Having made the journey herself, she knew it was treacherous and unforgiving. Her faith was strong that he’d survive the cold and snow. Whether any of them would survive the battles yet to come, still tested her resolve. _Where is Sansa?_ She thought as she sat at her table sipping a cup of water. She’d barely touched the stew of stag and carrots, and had eaten only a piece of the dark bread she’d torn off and dipped. _You have to eat_ , _Brienne,_ she thought. _Think only of the child._

The light tap on her chamber door came as a relief. She hurried to the door to welcome Sansa in. “Oh, thank goodness,” Brienne said.

“What’s this?” Sansa remarked, pointing to Brienne’s uneaten meal. “Come and sit down this instant and finish your supper.”

Brienne smiled. Sansa was the mothering one now. She watched over Brienne, saw that she ate properly and rested as she should. “I’ll finish my supper on one condition,” Brienne said, sitting back down at the table.

“And what might that be?” Sansa smiled, sweeping into the chair across from her.

“We get out of this room for a bit and take a walk like we used to. I’m so tired of being cooped up in here like a bird in a cage. I promise I’ll bundle up warmly. I believe the fresh air will do me good.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. I’ll be right back. I need to go get my cloak and gloves. Besides, that sounds much better than teaching you to knit,” Sansa said over a giggle.

Brienne ate her fill and wrapped herself up tightly. She stepped out into the hallway just as Sansa arrived to join her for their stroll. “You’ve chosen the perfect evening, Brienne,” Sansa said, as Brienne took her arm.

“Good evening my Lady,” Podrick said, approaching them.

“I hope you don’t mind. Podrick insisted on accompanying us on our walk,” Sansa said over a shy grin.

“I don’t mind at all. However Pod, if you could follow a few steps behind, I’d appreciate it. You know, lady’s chat and what not,” Brienne said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of course my Lady,” Pod said with a bow. “You won’t even know I’m behind you.”

“Good,” Brienne remarked, tugging on Sansa’s arm to go.

As they approached the door to the courtyard, Sansa told Brienne of her snow castles and how she enjoyed the snow once, when she only saw it occasionally. Months of barely seeing the sun or the moon were beginning to take their toll. She spoke of melancholy days, and how she’d once wanted to travel to High Garden. She shared how she’d thought she would marry Loras Tyrell, and the series of events that had squashed her dreams. Sansa’s stories went on until their feet were nearly numb from the cold and their noses were red and runny.

“Perhaps we should carry on this discussion another time?” Sansa asked as they approached the door and Podrick rushed to open it for them.

“I’d love that,” Brienne said as they entered the hall and made the turn into their corridor.

“Lady Brienne, please rest. Pod informed me Ser Bronn has already begun making his plans to secure the Eyrie.”

“What? I haven’t said a thing about helping…”

“I know you haven’t said anything but I know you well by now. We have to trust in what we’ve got and Ser Bronn has proven to be an excellent commander.”

“Jaime certainly thinks very highly of his abilities,” Brienne said, lowering her eyes.

“Then that should be more than enough.” Sansa leaned up and kissed Brienne on the cheek as they reached her chamber door. “Sleep well.”

~:~:~:~

“Do you know the worst thing about this whole trek?” Jaime said as he rode his horse aside Tormund in the van headed south.

“You?” Tormund shot back with a grin.

“Yes I’m sure I’m the worst person you’ve ever had the pleasure of traveling with, but no, it’s having made the journey before in the opposite direction only months ago.”

“Never been south, at least not as far as this.”

“Hmm,” Jaime said, raising his brow and nodding. “Have you ever been anywhere where you don’t need these furs?”

“I was born in the true north. Never have been anywhere else and never cared,” the big man said.

_Well this conversation is going nowhere,_ Jaime thought and nodded again. He decided to slow his steed and ride aside Ser Jorah. The bear wasn’t much on conversation either but the sound of the snow whooshing beneath the horse’s hooves was deafening. He longed for anything to distract him from his own thoughts.

The sky was changing from ash to soot, and he knew they’d be making camp soon. The best conversationalist he’d known his entire life was back at Winterfell, and he longed for his little brother’s anecdotes’ and sarcasm. _At least he’s safe and warm_ , Jaime thought as the van slowed to a stop.

“One more day’s ride to Castle Cerwyn,” Jaime said to Ser Jorah as they dismounted.

“It’s been many years since I’ve traveled this road and never in winter. The Wights have torn the ground up well enough though,” Ser Jorah replied.

“Indeed they have.” Jaime reflected on his night at the castle with Brienne and smiled, before thoughts of what might remain of the place stole them away. “Those poor people,” he said, his thoughts escaped his lips.

“Those people?” Ser Jorah asked.

“At Castle Cerwyn. There were still servants there months ago when we came through on our way to the Vale.”

“I pity anyone in the path of those monsters. I doubt anyone is left alive on the other side of that herd.” Jorah sighed in frosty breath and his expression, solemn. “Come, let’s get to work. There’s no point in dwelling on what’s beyond our control for now.”

Within the hour, their camp was a field of glowing fires and pitched tents. Jaime set off to speak with Aegon about what their strategy would be in the coming days. He found Aegon sitting by a fire alone, tearing off hunks of hard bread and washing them down with ale.

“May I?” Jaime asked, waving to a rotted log next to Aegon, to which he nodded. “Do you think we’ll catch up to them?” Jaime asked as he sat.

“Yes, we will. The snow is well beaten down by them. Tracking them will continue to be easy unless another storm blows in.”

“Reports from the scouts?” Jaime asked.

“There’s been no sign of Rhaegal but the dead army is ahead of us by nearly three leagues. There’s been no sight of Drogon either. He’s most likely still circling Winterfell looking for Daenerys.”

“I know she’ll be fine. She’s in good hands with Missandei.”

“Thank you. I wonder what good it will do her to be fine if we don’t stop the Night King.”

“What if we don’t stop them? Cersei has the Lannister army and the Golden Company. They’ll be surrounded. Once the dead advance on them they’ll have no choice but to fight.”

Aegon turned to Jaime and looked up at him from beneath his brow. “Fight with what? They have wildfire but no dragon glass, and I doubt they have enough Valyrian steel to make a difference.”

“Oh, she has plenty of wildfire, believe me…” Jaime said and suddenly stopped. His expression turned to horror.

“What is it?”

“The wildfire. There are cashes of wildfire beneath almost every building in Kings Landing.”

“You don’t think she’d blow the whole city to bits do you?” Aegon asked, now turned completely to face Jaime. His eyes were dark with worry yet wide with fear.

“I know she would if it meant saving herself.”

“It will be weeks before they reach Kings Landing, if in fact that’s where they’re headed, but I’m staying with Sam’s theory of the Gods Eye,” Aegon said.

“Those things can’t swim. I believe if the Gods Eye is the Night Kings destination, he’ll leave those things to run rampant across Westeros. What does he care?”

“I keep thinking about Arya. I know she’s in Kings Landing just waiting for her opportunity to kill Cersei. I’ve spent years wondering if she was alive or dead, only to find her and lose her again.”

“She’s with the Hound. She’s not alone. From what I understand she’s quite capable of handling herself as well.”

Aegon fell silent for a moment, staring into the flames. Jaime joined him and together, their minds wandered, each in a direction unknown to the other, until Aegon finally spoke, “Do you believe in this Lord of Light?”

“I can’t really speak on it. The only thing I know of him is he brought you back from the dead.”

“I’ve stared into every fire I’ve seen since the day I came back. All I see are flames. You’d think a God who raises the dead would have the courtesy of sharing a bit of insight.” Aegon chuckled softly, his gaze never wavering from the dancing light.

“The Night King raises the dead as well. Has he given you any insight?”

“When we went beyond the wall to capture the Wight, Beric said if we kill the Night King, we kill them all. I didn’t want to listen. All I cared about was getting that dead fucker to Kings Landing.”

“Do you believe he was right?”

“I know he was right. He made them all. I killed a Wight Walker and almost all of the ones with him fell the second I sliced him in half. It just stands to reason. If I could get that ice bastard to fight me the old way, man to man,” he said and stopped.

“It’s hard to challenge someone who doesn’t even speak.”

“A sword in your hand pointed at a man’s chest speaks every language. I just need to say the words.”

“That’s insane.”

“No more insane than coming back from the dead. I’m going after him. We’ll see if this Lord of Light really has my back and if not, promise me you’ll kill that Red Woman before she has a chance to bring me back.”

“What about Daenerys…your child?” Jaime asked, pleading with Aegon.

“She was born to rule the seven kingdoms. I don’t want that and never have.” Aegon lowered his eyes as he spoke. “I know she’ll be a wonderful mother, but there won’t be anyone to rule over, or children, or even life unless I kill the Night King.”

Jaime nodded and lowered his eyes as well. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Aegon raised his head and looked into the fire one last time. Jaime turned and watched as Aegon’s eyes grew wide. He pushed forward until Jaime thought he’d fall into the flames, and he snatched him by the arm. “Stop! What are you doing?” Jaime shouted, pulling him back.

Aegon’s breathing grew ragged and frost blew from between his lips. He turned and looked directly into Jaime’s face and said, “I have to go alone.”

“What are you talking about? Why?”

“It’s only me. He’s waiting for me at the Gods Eye.” Aegon leapt to his feet. “You there! Pack my horse!” he shouted to his squire.

“Stop! This is madness!” Jaime shouted after him.

“Lead this army south and kill every Wight in your path. I have to get to the Gods Eye and I can’t sit here another moment while people are being slaughtered and worse, adding to his numbers.”

The roar of the dragon could be heard for miles. Aegon looked up into the night sky and smiled. He knew Drogon’s call and raced to his squire, snatching his saddle pack from the boy’s hands and tossing it over his shoulder. They watched as Drogon circled, almost invisible against the night sky until he realized Daenerys was riding him, and threw his pack to the ground.

“Fucking hell!” he screamed. “No!”

Jaime watched as the great beast lowered and then landed in the snow about a hundred feet away. Aegon took off running towards him and Jaime followed, along with Jorah and Tormund.

“What are you doing?” Aegon shouted at Daenerys as she descended Drogon’s wing.

“I’m fine. Do you honestly believe I’d risk the life of our child?”

Aegon swept her into his arms and kissed her. “You’re insane do you know that?”

“I couldn’t leave you out here when I know we have to go after him. Please, trust me. Bran and Sam were right. The Wights are destroying everything in their path and adding more bodies to their army as we speak, but him, he’s already there. I saw him.”

Aegon turned and looked back at Jaime. “Keep moving south as I ordered. If I don’t return, keep fighting and head for the coast, get on as many ships as you can and get to Dragonstone. It’s your only chance.”

Jaime nodded. They stood back and watched as Aegon and Daenerys made their way up onto Drogon and a few moments later, they were gone into the night.

“First light then?” Jorah asked Jaime.

“First light we continue south. That band of fighting slaves the Red Woman brought with her, how many remain?” Jaime asked.

“They are still one thousand and yes, I agree,” said Melisandre. She took them by surprise as none of them had heard her approach as they spoke. “Send them on ahead. This van of armies is too large to move as quickly as you need them to in order to catch up to the army of the dead.”

“The dead do not rest or eat or tire. We’ll never reach them before they cross the Neck unless we send battalions ahead,” Jorah said. “We’ve been covering less than twenty miles per day. They can cover nearly twice that with barely an hours rest.”

“You want to stop them before they reach the Vale, right, Ser Jaime?” Melisandre said, gazing up at him from beneath her cloak. Her eyes burned red against her pale face. “He saw it. Maybe even you saw it too. The Lord of Light is with us. He’s with Aegon too.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched and his left hand curled into a tight fist at his side. “Order them ahead. In the morning, we’ll send another thousand…Unsullied. Behind that, a thousand Dothraki, and we’ll continue until we’re out of soldiers or out of time,” Jaime exclaimed, marching back towards the camp. “Kill them. Burn them. Chop them into pieces so small the horses can grind them into the dirt but stop them.”           

“Yes, stop them,” Melisandre repeated. “The Lord of Light grows stronger with every Wight who perishes. Once they’re all defeated and the Night King is slain, only then will the world know peace and the dawn come again.”

Jaime stopped and turned, glaring at Melisandre. He’d seen something in the fire as well but only now did he realize what it meant. _Fire is the purest death_ he thought, but where did the thought come from? Why was he thinking it at all?

Melisandre continued walking towards him. In the darkness, she glowed like a ghost and a lump grew in his throat so large he could barely swallow. He stood waiting for her as if he’d lost the will to move. Mistrust and frustration washed over him. Words rose at last into his mouth but his lips were pressed so tightly together he could barely release them into the icy air.

“At what cost?” he shouted at last.

“Do you know the story of how the Wights were driven north before?” she asked.

“Yes, yes something about the Children of the Forest creating them to battle the first men and the tales of the last hero driving them back. Why this? Why now?”

“If we don’t learn from the past, how can we expect to destroy them?” she asked.

“So what you’re saying is we need another last hero. Well, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re losing and we’re all out of heroes at the moment!” Jaime shouted, and then collected himself to speak again. “Listen, our objective is to destroy these things and save as many of the living as we can. We don’t have time for stories of magic swords and ancient lore.” He spun away from her and began marching again when she snatched him by the arm.

“I’m trying to answer your question. You asked what the Lord of Light wants. The answer is simple; burn the trees. Kill the magic.”

“Kill the what?” Jaime’s face twisted into a look of pain and disbelief.

“Magic created the Night King, the Wight Walkers and the army of the dead. Kill the magic. Kill them all.”

_Fire is the purest death._ The thought captured him again. _Burn the trees. Kill all magic. Kill them all._   “No,” Jaime said, pulling away from Melisandre. “The Gods Eye,” he muttered aloud to himself as he walked faster and faster until he was running towards the camp for his horse. He needed to reach Bran’s litter and speak with him and Sam. At first he believed it a horrible idea to bring the boy but now, he believed he’d burst if he didn’t speak to him. He’d believed having Melisandre along with her thousand soldiers of the Fiery Hand wasn’t a good idea either but at the time, a thousand soldiers on their fighting side seemed like the right idea.

When Jaime arrived at Bran’s litter, he was at the fire nearby, next to a Weirwood, speaking with Sam. He’d met up with Ser Davos along the way. He admired the man and respected his thoughts. Ser Davos’ insights had proven true every time he offered them.

“Bran, I need a word. It’s very important,” Jaime said.

Bran turned and looked up at him without a hint of surprise. “The Red Woman, she disclosed something to you.”

“Yes, well, at least I believe she did,” Jaime stuttered, looking at Ser Davos.

“They’ve gone to the God’s Eye, to the heart of the Weirwood trees. The Night King wants Aegon. He needs him.”

“What do you mean he needs him?” Jaime asked.

“He saw it in the fire…what the Lord of Light wanted him to see, but he’s been deceived. The Lord of Light led Aegon there to destroy the Night King by burning the trees.” Bran looked up at the red leaves, twisting in the cold wind. “What men forget, the trees remember. If they destroy the trees, they destroy the Old Gods, history, everything.”

“The Red Woman said the trees must burn, to kill the magic which will kill the Night King and his army,” Jaime said.

“I shoulda killed her when I had the chance,” Davos muttered.

“Ser Jaime, if I may try to explain,” Sam said. His voice was hesitant and meek. “The Children of the Forest created the Wight Walkers with magic to help them defeat the first men and stop them from cutting down the Weirwoods. Then at the Gods Eye, the Children and the First Men made their pact and drove the Wight Walkers back into the North. However, it wasn’t until four thousand years later that the Night King was created by the Children, to manage the Wight Walkers and keep them in check. Then the wall was built with ice magic, keeping the Wight Walkers on one side and the living on the other.”

“Are you telling me this Night King isn’t a Wight Walker?” Jaime asked, his expression turning to that of doubt.

“Based on Bran’s visions and my own research, the Night King was a man; possibly the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. We believe he sacrificed himself in order to save the living. He took them all north and the wall went up to keep them there, but something happened to upset the balance…again.”

“But why now? Why this, this war?” Jaime was animated and flailing his arms about, pacing. _I’m sorry I asked_ , he thought. Cersei always called him stupid and a fool. Maybe he was after all because none of this made sense to him.

“R’hllor. The Lord of Light. R’hllor’s followers have spent thousands of years growing in strength based on the idea that there are only two true religions; R’hllor and the Great Other. The Great Other, of course being the force behind the Night King and Wight Walkers but we can’t find any evidence that there’s any such God. It was the Children’s magic that created them, not some Great Other. Let’s face it Ser Jaime, there’s plenty of magic to go around. Some blamed the comet for this magic surge or push, and it could be true but Bran and I have surmised based on a lot of theories and what Bran has seen, we are all no more than pawns in a game, or casualties of a war we have nothing to do with.”

Jaime was boiling over with anger and frustration. “Aegon and Daenerys, your King and Queen, have flown off to fight the Night King! How the fuck am I supposed to stop them now?” He paced back and forth until the wet snow beneath his boots turned to mud.

“That’s why that Red bitch brought him back. She’s using him to do their dirty work,” Davos growled.

“If they succeed in burning the Weirwoods, the old Gods will be destroyed and they’ll win. They’ve already destroyed so many of the Septs of the Seven and of course, Cersei destroyed the Sept of Baelor, which certainly helped their cause. They’ve burned innocents and make sacrifices to R’hllor,” Bran said. “Burning innocent people doesn’t sound like good to me.”

“It’s evil—she’s evil. I’ve said it all along. The second she saw Aegon at the wall, she abandoned Stannis and tossed him aside for a better option,” Davos said.

“So…wait, are you telling me we’re on the wrong side? Are you saying we’re all on the wrong side?” Jaime shouted.

“I believe that’s exactly what we’re saying. Based on everything we’ve gathered, The Lord of Light isn’t a Lord of Light at All, but rather, quite the opposite,” Sam said, raising his eyes to Jaime.

“Fuck first light. We ride now! Do that thing…whatever it is you do and get a message to the King to get the hell out of the way and let the Night King fight his own battle!” Jaime bellowed.

“I already have but I fear it may be too late,” Bran said. “I’ll do whatever I can of course but I fear by the time this is over, it may take a thousand years for mankind to recover.”

Jaime bolted to his horse. He called every banner and sent a thousand Dothraki ahead to cut down the army of the Fiery Hand, and capture Melisandre alive. He had other plans for her. Without the supply wagons and litters, they could move more quickly but there was no way they’d reach the God’s eye in time to help Aegon and Daenerys. In his heart, as day and night he rode, stopping only for brief respites, he feared all was lost and it was only a matter of time before news would reach them of the end.

      


	29. True Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Podrick and his Lady Sansa find comfort in each other's arms but nothing stays sweet for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet 116  
> BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE  
> Let me not to the marriage of true minds   
> Admit impediments. Love is not love   
> Which alters when it alteration finds,   
> Or bends with the remover to remove.   
> O no! it is an ever-fixed mark   
> That looks on tempests and is never shaken;   
> It is the star to every wand'ring bark,   
> Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.   
> Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks   
> Within his bending sickle's compass come;   
> Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,   
> But bears it out even to the edge of doom.   
> If this be error and upon me prov'd,   
> I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

It was still dark yet Sansa knew the dawn was perhaps only an hour away. She was curled tightly beneath the furs, gazing at the mop of messy dark brown hair, pressed into the pillow next to hers. His back was to her, and she watched as his thick, muscular shoulder rose and fell with every breath. She couldn’t resist the urge to touch his hair. Lightly, her fingers danced, petting the ends of Podrick’s outgrown mane. It fanned out at least four inches from his scalp and was nearly long enough to tie at the back of his head. _Just like father’s_ she thought to herself. _Just like a real Northman._

The rhythm of his breathing changed and he released a deep sigh. She pulled back her hand and waited to see if she’d accidentally awakened him. Long, silent fingers hovered just above his brown locks as she waited until it was safe to feel them again. _I love you, Podrick Payne._

She flinched when she saw that shoulder tense and then smiled when he turned beneath the furs. His thick forearm caught her around the waist and pulled her flat against his chest, bringing them nose to nose. “Why are ye awake? It’s still dark,” he whispered, his eyes still hidden from her beneath his long lashes.

“Shhh. I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep.”

Brushing the clumps of fallen dark waves away from his face, she kissed his forehead and then adjusted her position until he was half on top of her, their legs entwined, and his head resting on her chest beneath her chin. She pulled the furs over him up to his neck and wrapped her arms softly around him beneath them to capture him there. His breath was so warm against her breasts. His palm so firm and strong, was cupped around her hip, capturing her as well. She sighed, light-headed with contentment, and stroked his hair again.

As if drifting into a twilight dream, she felt his lips against her skin, softly at first and then more deliberate. The gentle fingers that rested around her hip, curled tightly into her skin, and then released, kneading her flesh again and again like a cat with a soft blanket making its bed. _Yes, please yes_ she thought, as her breaths deepened and her fingers slipped into his hair. She arched her back, tying those long brown locks between her fingers, as his kisses travelled over her breasts and upward to her neck. They were wet and burning her from the inside out.

She gasped when she felt his hand push behind her hip, and easily bring her fully under him. She released his hair as he draped her long legs over his hips, knelt between them and hovered over her. “May I, my Lady?”

As silly as it always sounded to her, she loved those words. He never took her without asking first. No matter the passion or who initiated their coupling, he’d yet to assume any liberties with her. He’d changed so much over the past few months. Physically, his body had transformed into solid muscle and his strength was such that she knew he could snap a man’s neck with his bare hands. He was a knight in every sense of the word, and nowhere, in her eyes, had he proven he’d always been one, more than when he was naked and about to make love to her.

She looked up into his dark, soulful eyes and touched his cheek, her other hand swept softly down over his chest, and then rested at his waist. Nodding, she pulled him to her. Permission granted.

~:~:~:~

Awakened by a tap on her chamber door, Sansa sat up in bed and shook Podrick lightly from his sleep. “Pod?”

“What is it?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She slid from the bed and grabbed her robe, securing it tightly around her before stepping to the door. “Who’s there?”

“It’s the steward milady. It’s Lady Brienne.”

Sansa unbolted the door and pulled it open without a care that Podrick was still naked in her bed. “What’s wrong? Is she alright?”

The steward glanced into the room as Podrick shrank beneath the furs. “Well, um,” he stammered.

“Well what is it? Seven hells will you speak?” she shouted.

“She’s gone!” the lad shouted back.

“Gone where? How can she be gone? Have you searched the castle?”

Podrick was scrambling to pull on his pants beneath the furs. “Pod!”

“Yes my Lady. I’m…could you close the door?” Podrick said.

“I want this castle and every inch of this damned mountain searched. Has Ser Bronn been told?”

“Yes milady. He’s already sent out twenty men to search.”

“Send twenty more!” she shouted and then slammed the door. “What if someone’s taken her? What if…”

“What if she left on her own accord?” Pod asked, fastening his jerkin.

“Her own accord? Why would she leave? Why now?” Sansa rushed about pulling on her stockings and underclothes.

“Where are you going?” Podrick asked.

“To look for Brienne! She’s with child! She can’t be out there alone running about!”

Podrick moved in close, and waited for Sansa to stand still before taking her by the arms and then into his. “She got that message that Jaime was heading south. Love makes us take risks, Sansa.”

“She wouldn’t risk their baby,” Sansa said, pressing her cheek into Podrick’s shoulder.

“Only she could know that. She’s strong and she knows herself. May I advise you to call off this search? Even if they do find her, would you have her dragged back here against her will and held prisoner? She loves Ser Jaime. She’s worried about him.”

Sansa sniffled. “I just can’t believe she’d do this. It’s so dangerous.”

Podrick took her chin in his hand and looked into her ice blue eyes. “I’d risk my life to find you. I’d risk a hundred lives…no everyone in the world if that’s what it took to hold you like this again.”

A tear rolled down over her cheek when she blinked. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you deserve much better than me, but I do love ye more than life.”

_I love you the same_ she thought. “Don’t say that!” she shouted and fell against him again.

“I’ll go and call off the search. Get dressed. I need to speak with Lord Robin. Wait here for me to return and write a message to Lord Selwin. He deserves to know his daughter has run off.”

**~:~:~:~  There’s a time jump here, only because of the distance Jaime is travelling. It’s all just road and more road. ~:~:~:~**

The northern banners and all those who had joined them on the Kings Road, were running out of time. As Jaime had ordered, they’d managed to stay on the trail of the Night King’s army and even put down thousands of them, but their own losses were great as well. Ser Jorah estimated nearly two thousand men had fallen from their combined forces, along with horses, which they’d not wasted due to their need for meat.  The Green Fork was littered with burning corpses along her banks and the earth was torn up and tilled by the hoard of Wights, at least a hundred feet wide on either side of the Kings Road, as far as the eye could see.

“They’re just too fast for us,” Ser Jorah said, leading his tired horse behind him as he walked beside Jaime.

“They don’t eat, they don’t sleep. They just keep running,” Jaime replied, tying off his own exhausted steed on a tree.

“You’re not giving up are you?”

Jaime turned and winced at Jorah and then lowered his head. “We’ve made it past the Vale. There was no sign of any of them heading towards the mountains. I know my wife and the rest are safe for now but no. I can’t give up because for now isn’t good enough. This has to be forever. Even just decreasing their numbers will help.”

The darkness covered them quickly as they set up their camp. None of them had slept more than six hours of the past forty-eight. They’d lost nearly another hundred men. Jaime surmised they’d just given up and chose to return to what was left of their homes to wait for the end of the world. They had to stop or the Stranger would pick them off one by one or they’d lose more men every day one way or another.

“We’re a day’s ride from the Crossroads. What I wouldn’t give for a mug of that shit juice they call ale,” Jaime muttered, unpacking his horse.

“Shall I ride back and check on Brandon’s litter?” Ser Jorah asked.

“No. Rest your horse and yourself. We have enough meat to last us another day or two. We don’t need your horse…yet.” Jaime’s humor had turned macabre, and Jorah simply raised an eyebrow and turned to his own work.   

The tents were raised and the fires lit. The aroma of death and roasting horsemeat rose around them. While squires watered the horses with melted snow, and gathered what little dried grass they could gather to feed them, Jaime climbed into his tent to rest. _What I wouldn’t give for a good steady westward wind right about now to carry that stench away, and a bath and my wife_ he thought, as he rolled his tattered blanket into a pillow and stuffed it beneath his head. He’d carried hot stones from the fire in his meal bowl into his small tent and placed them next to him on the ground for warmth and within minutes, fell sound asleep.

It felt as if less than an hour had passed when the horns blew calling them to wake. They’d lost more men and more horses during the cold night yet Jaime pressed on, calling them into line. “Burn the dead and let’s get the fuck out of here,” was his final order of the morning.

By the time the darkness began creeping up on them again, the crossroads were in sight. The horn blew, signaling more Wights. Jaime’s head snapped to Ser Jorah and with a swift kick and cluck of his tongue, they were again chasing them and cutting them down. Jaime pulled back on the reigns of his horse when he spotted something moving behind the trees on the side of the road. “Wight Walker!” he shouted to Jorah and took off in the direction of his target.

Sword in hand, he galloped to the edge of the trees and then dismounted as the animal came to a halt. He crept forward into the thicket and watched as the Wight Walker led his dead horse towards the old Crossroads Tavern. Jaime waited and then stepped forward in the snow with precise and silent footsteps. Closer…closer he drew to the thing until his focus on the Walker drew his attention away from what was beneath his feet. The soft, powdery snow had turned into an iced over and brittle surface. It was like walking on sea shells and it crunched beneath his boots.

The Wight Walker spun around at the sound and drew his icy sword. _Oh fuck!_ The element of surprise now lost, Jaime had no choice than to fight. Throughout the weeks of battling, he’d grown as sure with his left hand as he had with his right. The only problem was he was as good with his defensive moves as ever but was still lacking somewhat with his offensive ones.

_You’ve got this Jaime._ The Wight Walker came it him, swinging his ice sword. Jaime met the frozen blade high and then kicked the Walker away with his boot. The blue blade came at him again and again, hacking and slicing at him but he met that blade each time with Valerian steel and cast it off. With each ring of the blades, Jaime’s confidence grew, until he had the thing fighting from back on its heels, now blocking Jaime’s heavy blows. Then again, the icy crunch beneath his boots. It was slick and dangerous. He needed to get this thing back into the snow and mud or he could lose his footing. “Come on you bastard!” Jaime shouted, turning and running towards more solid ground when the worst that could happen, happened. He tripped on a root hidden beneath the snow and flew forward. Widow’s Wail blew out of his hand as he went down and it slid just out of his reach. He looked back and the Wight Walker was mere feet away, his blade raised to strike. _This is it…_

Jaime climbed to his knees and knelt, lowering his head, awaiting the death he knew was inevitable all of his life. He did not fear it. He did not beg for his life. _I love you Brienne. I’ve always loved you. Please survive…for me._

He closed his eyes and waited, when suddenly, he heard a screech and a high pitched squeal, and what sounded like shattering glass. His eyes flew open and he watched as the Walker fell into a million pieces and blew away in the wind, right before his eyes. “What in seven hells?” He shouted, for as the cloud of ice crystals cleared, he saw an angel of mercy standing before him, her sword hanging from her hand. “Brienne?”

 She reached out her gloved hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come on. Follow me,” she said and led him away.

 

 


	30. Live to See the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In every war, all sides believe they’re on the side of good.” Brienne said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burned hand, sick cat, 2 audiobooks in production and five granddaughters. Somehow, I managed to get my act together and finish this chapter. I just love this story and these two incredible and beautiful people (and all of you too!). I simply can't live without their love! If I could make this canon, simply by wishing, the entire eighth season would be about Jaime and Brienne! lol XOXO

“This way,” Brienne said, pulling Jaime along behind her, into the backdoor of the Inn at the Crossroads. “Here,” she added, pulling open a heavy door that led into the larder of the inn. “Close the door.”

“What are we doing in here?” Jaime asked, pulling the door shut.

“Hiding, isn’t it obvious? Or would you rather run back into the fray and ignore the fact that I’ve travelled day and night for over a week to find you?” Brienne asked. “It’s freezing in here. This meat has been hanging for months. It’s probably still good though, it’s frozen solid and it doesn’t smell rotten.” She trembled.

Jaime leapt forward, capturing her in his arms and then kissing her nearly breathless, to capture her rambling words as well. “Thank the Gods! I’ve missed you more than life. Are you all right?” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I just killed a Wight Walker who was about to take your head. I’d say I’m better than all right,” she answered, looking down into his eyes without a trace of humor.

Jaime’s glance lowered as he took a step back, sliding his hand from the cold armor on her back and it fell to his side. “Yes, I suppose I should thank you for that.”

“Thank me,” she shouted in a whisper. “What were you thinking? I saw everything. You knelt and were going to let that thing kill you.”

“If you saw it all then you know my sword was out of reach, Brienne. I had no chance to…”

“No chance to fight for us? No chance to live for us?” She spun away from him. Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried fruitlessly to mask her sobs.

“Brienne, I’m a knight. Would you have had him stab me in the back? A true knight knows when he’s bested and honor compels him to yield, and yes…” He paused, placing his hand on her arm to turn her to face him. “To kneel.”

“You told me once the Gods haven’t finished with us yet. Maybe it was the Gods who pushed me from my chamber and back into my armor to find you. I don’t know but whatever it was, please I beg you, don’t go off alone after one of those things again. What in seven hells were you thinking?” Brienne said.

Jaime pulled her against him again, cupping her cheek in his hand. She leaned into it and closed her eyes. “My darling, I don’t know what I would have done out here without you today, but I need you alive to be there for our child should I fall again. I’m thankful for my life and to see you and be with you, even here in this foul place, but I want you to go back.”

“Go back?” Her eyes widened and she pulled away from him, slapping the tears from her cheeks. “I can’t go back! You don’t know what I went through to get here.”

“The closer we get to Kings Landing and the Gods Eye, the worse it will get. Our scouts have already spotted Lannister soldiers and the Golden Company only ten miles south of here,” Jaime pleaded.

“The only way I’m going back is if you go with me. Since I know you’ll never abandon this cause, I’m staying and joining this fight,” she whispered through her teeth. “I should have been here all along. I feel as healthy and fit as I ever have—even more so. I was useless at The Eyrie. The Maester said less than two weeks ago there was no reason I couldn’t continue all of my normal activities.”

“Brienne, I’m certain he meant walking or training, not riding and fighting to the death,” Jaime said, pressing his smile flat between his lips and giving her the look she despised, that always melted her coarse moods.

“Riding and fighting to the death were normal activities for me, remember?”

Jaime pursued her again. Knowing Brienne better than anyone, he knew her every motive was true and honorable. He also knew when she was set on something there was no way to convince her otherwise. He had to believe those Gods were in fact not finished with them yet, and that they weren’t playing some cruel joke that would end with them both dead the morning of the new dawn. “Come here to me,” he said, taking her hand, threading his fingers between hers, and glancing up at her like a forlorn pup.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Jaime, so you can save that seducing grin. It’s only ever worked on love struck maidens and we both know that’s never been me.”

“You weren’t love struck?” he purred at her, kissing her lightly. “Not even a little?” he asked, kissing her again.

“You’re ridiculous, you do know that?” she said, finally kissing him back. “You’re like a little boy—a little naughty boy. Oof!” At last she embraced him tightly, and their kiss was as deep and warm as their souls. When they separated, she said, “Please stop worrying. I feel wonderful; hungry but wonderful. If I feel the slightest twinge that our child is in danger, I’ll flee. I need to be by your side.” She clutched his arms and held tight.

“Daenerys is with child as well. She rode her dragon in battle and again to the God’s Eye. If she could manage all that and as far as I know, survive alive and well, who am I to say you can’t?”

“It would do you no good anyway,” she said and smiled, laying her hands on his bearded cheeks. “You don’t love me because I do what you say. You love me because you see me, and I see you…inside we are one, and neither of us knows how to run from a fight.”

Jaime lowered his eyes and whispered, “It’s never too late to start.”

She lifted his face to hers and kissed him. “We’d never forgive ourselves, you know that.”

“Before we go, may we have just a bit longer? It’s been less than an hour ago that I thought I’d never see you again. I just want to hold you for a few more minutes.”

“They’ll be looking for you.”

“Ser Jaime!” Jorah’s voice could be heard faintly in the distance, calling out again and again.

“One last kiss then, and we’ll go,” he whispered.

~:~:~:~

“Over here!” Jaime shouted, as he and Brienne emerged from the larder with their arms filled with frozen boar and stag meat.

“Where did you go? I’ve been searching for you. I found your horse tied to a tree but…”

“Ser Jorah, my wife, Brienne,” Jaime said, raising an eyebrow as they nodded to each other.

“My Lady. I’ve heard so much about you I feel we’ve already met but…I thought you were in the Vale?” Jorah asked, glancing at Jaime.

“You don’t need to address your questions to my husband Ser Jorah. My name and status has changed but I have not. I will serve the realm better in armor than in silk. That larder is full of frozen meat. Of course we won’t know for sure until it thaws whether or not it’s fit to eat but it’s worth trying if it will stave off starvation.”

“Thank you. Please, allow me to send a few soldiers to bring the rest, and whatever else might be of use,” Jorah said, still marveling at not only the size but the formidable spirit of the woman before him.

“Before you look at my husband again, allow me to put your mind at ease…”

“No, please allow me,” Jaime interrupted. “Lady Brienne is a knight, tried and true. She’s one of the best swords in Westeros and is more than capable of handling anything we might encounter.”

“Based on what I know of the lady, I don’t doubt it,” Jorah said, raising an eyebrow at Jaime and bowing to Brienne. “I suppose it’s safe to assume you took out that Wight Walker, as over half the Wights fell as we were fighting them, and we put down the rest.”

“Actually, what happened was…” Jaime started to say.

“Yes, we did kill the Wight Walker,” Brienne interrupted. “Shall we go? This meat is getting heavy.” She glanced over at Jaime who decided it was better to leave well enough alone and get back to his troops.     

As they walked, Jaime slowed and allowed Ser Jorah to get far enough ahead of them so he could speak freely. “Brienne, I’ll need to speak with you and bring you up to date on all of the information we’ve acquired on our journey. There are many things you need to know.”

“I understand. I’m sure there’s been much more going on that wouldn’t fit on a raven’s leg.”

Jaime stopped. “Before we go another step I need to say something.”

Brienne looked at him. Her expression was that of impatient curiosity.

“I have thousands of men here relying on me to lead them. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself but I don’t want either of us to compromise our responsibilities by watching over each other like mother hens.”

“But Jaime, I…”

“There are no buts in this Brienne. If you’re here to join the fight, you’ll follow my orders and do as you’re told. My order will be for you to protect Brandon Stark.”

“Brandon? Why?”

“His part in all of this is critical. His visions and interpretations, as well as Sam Tarley’s have gotten us this far. They’ve also sent Daenerys and Aegon into what may be their last battle. I’ll catch you up on everything later but whatever happens, keep that boy alive.”

Brienne nodded and they continued on.

~:~:~:~

Jaime decided since the imminent threat had passed, that the Crossroads was as good a place as any to make camp for the night. Brienne had joined Bran and Sam at their little wheelhouse and informed them of her duty to them. She assisted them with getting settled for the night inside the abandoned inn. Surprisingly, the in hadn’t incurred much damage at all inside, and those who had run off, left almost everything behind.

The meat was mostly still edible, and those squires who regularly cooked, offered their services to bring the huge kitchen back to life. Brienne secured a room for Brandon and Sam, as the long distance travelling in such uncomfortable accommodations, was wearing on Brandon’s spine.

“Although I cannot use my legs, from my waist up, every part of this body aches. My spine is raw as well from what I hear,” Bran said as two soldiers carried him into the room and laid him on the bed, propped with pillows.

“Perhaps a soaking bath may help if that’s possible?” Samwell asked Brienne.

“I’ll see what I can do. In the mean-time, there’s parchment and an inkwell on that desk if you’ve anything you need to send off. Your ravens have been secured in the stables. Don’t worry, they’re being carefully minded and fed,” Brienne said and then closed the door behind her.

The inn filled with the smell of roasting meat and stew. Outside, fire pits roared as well, as each regiment beneath a banner helped themselves to their share of food and gathered to share their meal. Brienne enlisted two young squires to provide a large tub for Bran and fill it with hot water. She went through her checklist of orders and duties and finally, filled a cup with hot cider and took a plate and a seat. The bread was still warm. It was bland and nearly flat but the simple ladle of stew she dipped it in tasted better than pigeon pie at a Kings Landing feast.

She was growing tired, and quickly finished her food and cider, and headed back up to check on Brandon and relieve the guards she’d left watching over him. She waived them off to eat, and tapped on the door. “Samwell?”

She could hear the rustling of feet coming closer to the door. The latch clicked and Sam poked his nose through the crack of an opening. “Yes my Lady. Brandon is nearly through soaking. We’ve but to take him from the tub and get him dressed.”

“Who’s in there with you?” Brienne asked.

“One of the medics from the Tully banner-men came to help, and examine Bran for rubbing wounds. I would like to check the kitchen though my Lady. There’s a salve I can whip up that may assist in easing his discomfort.”

“Well, there isn’t much left but if you let me in I can help get him into bed so you can search.”

Sam held up his index finger and turned away for a second, and then opened the door. Brienne shielded her eyes for a moment as they wrapped Bran in a bathing cloth and laid him in the bed. She stepped to Bran’s side and smiled down at him.

“Are you feeling better my Lord?”

“Just Bran please, and yes, much better. Thank you. This body has grown weak and frail. Did you see any Weirwood trees nearby my Lady?”

“Yes, I did see one on my ride here but it’s perhaps several miles northeast.”

“There are many at the Gods Eye. I need to go there as soon as possible. I fear this body won’t survive much longer if I don’t.”

“You need to eat. I’ve ordered your supper brought up here to you. It should be here any moment. You’ll heal more quickly once you’ve something warm in your belly.”

“Has Ser Jaime told you everything I relayed him? Do you know why I need to go to the Gods Eye?”

Brienne’s neck was beginning to stiffen and she pulled a chair up next to Bran’s bed and sat. “Not everything, no. He said he would tell me once everyone is settled tonight but I’m afraid I may be asleep by the time he’ll be able to.”

“I need you to release the ravens so that I may check on Aegon and Daenerys. They’ve been gone for weeks. I’ve searched for them and the Night King but as of yet, they haven’t reached the Gods Eye and I must know why.”

“Where could they be?”

“I fear they’ve chosen to engage the Lannister army and the Golden Company. Please, release the ravens and allow me to search for them.”

Brienne rose from her seat and turned as Sam re-entered the room. He was carrying a tray of stew and a bowl of some yellow mushy paste. “I see you made your salve,” Brienne said.

“I carry some birch and wintergreen oils. Mixed with bees wax, it works wonders for skin ulcers and eases pain.”

“Bran needs the ravens released.”

“I’ll take care of that. Can you…can you just…” Sam stammered, holding out the bowl of salve.

“Yes, yes of course I can take care of him,” Brienne said, taking the bowl from Sam’s hands.

“Circular motions around the red areas on his spine,” Sam instructed.

“I have to turn him,” Brienne said softly. Lifting Bran was like lifting a small child now. With little exertion, she turned him on his side, facing away from her and sat back in the chair as Sam watched. “He’ll be fine. I’m perfectly capable of applying salve. Go.”

Bran stared off into space blankly as Brienne placed a cloth on the bed behind him to catch any salve and protect his bed from soiling. “Is this all right?” she asked, gently massaging the paste over Bran’s lower back.

“I can feel a light pressure but I honestly wouldn’t know if you were hurting me.”

“So what does the Night King want at the Gods Eye?”

“The Weirwoods remember everything. They are all connected. The Gods Eye is like the center of a great spider web. That’s why the Children of the forest and the First Men met there to make their truce,” Bran said.

Brienne listened as she gently moved Bran onto his back again, and began dressing him. “So this is why King Aegon has gone there? To battle the Night King? I don’t understand.”

“This battle isn’t about us. We’re just caught in the middle,” Bran said, as Brienne finished and pulled a blanket over him up to his chest.

She sighed and sat back down in the chair. “Then why are we all fighting? I mean to say, I understand why we’re fighting the Night King’s army; they’re killing everyone in their path but…”

“Yes, everyone in _his_ path. His army grows with everyone they kill. We have to fight to live beyond this, like we have through all of the other wars for centuries.” Bran turned his far away gaze at last towards Brienne.

“Well, this isn’t like any other war. Dragons, magic and dead soldiers, all topped off with a winter that could once again last a hundred years and all for what?”

Those who believe in the Lord of Light call this the war between the light and darkness—the good and the evil.”

“In every war, all sides believe they’re on the side of good.” Brienne said, pouring Bran a cup of water and handing it to him. “Here, drink. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

Brienne turned as Sam entered the room. “I’m back.” He carried a tray of food and sat at the small table. Within seconds, his nose was in a book as he shoveled stew into his mouth and chewed.

Brienne said, “I’m going to retire. See that you both get some rest tonight. I’m certain we’ll be moving on at first light.”

“Yes my Lady,” Sam said. He laid down his spoon and walked her to the door. “Thank you for your assistance with Bran.”

“He said he needs a Weirwood tree. I told him I saw one but he’s decided to wait until we reach the Gods Eye. I won’t pretend I understand any of this but for now, I’m simply too tired to even try. Good night,” Brienne said and stepped into the hallway. She assigned two guards to Bran’s door to alternate during the night.

“Brienne,” she heard Jaime’s voice call out to her in a whisper. He was standing in the doorway of a chamber and waving her to him.

“You’re back,” she said, following him into the room.

Jaime closed the door behind her. “Yes. I left Ser Jorah in charge of the encampment.”

“Have you eaten?” she asked, fumbling with the clasps on her armor.

“Yes. I ate with the men,” he answered, helping her with her pauldron.

“I haven’t missed this you know. When this is over, I never want to put this on again,” Brienne said with a huff and a sigh.

“How’s Bran?” Jaime inquired.

“Very strange. I won’t pretend to understand what a three eyed raven is or a greenseer. I’ve read of greenseers in story books but I must admit, there’s certainly a great deal of truth to his visions. I could only nurse his body unfortunately. The poor thing is raw from riding in that little wheelhouse.”

“If there was any other way, we’d have tried to avoid this but the lad insisted he had to come,” Jaime said, helping Brienne remove her tasset, and she stretched, free of the weighty armor.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting to remove her boots. “You next.”

Once she’d helped Jaime out of his armor, he pulled her against him and held her tightly, kissing her with deep wanting.

“Jaime, is this advisable?” she asked, between his kisses.

“I don’t care. You’re my wife and we’re together after months. Who knows when we’ll ever again have the chance?” Jaime’s hand pushed beneath her tunic. The coarse skin of his rough hand pressed against her back. He couldn’t pull her close enough to him. He had to have her. His warm breath on her neck as he explored her ignited her passion and in seconds, she was naked and falling back onto the bed.

She cared not about lovemaking, and tenderness was the furthest thing from her mind. She clawed at Jaime and pushed him down beneath her tearing away his clothes. She couldn’t stop until he was fully inside of her and she collapsed on top of him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she whispered against his skin.

His body wasn’t sorry and neither was his heart. She could feel it pounding against her chest as she rocked her hips against him, and kissed him deeply. “Shh,” he whispered to her. “If you keep this up, I’m afraid this moment will be over too soon.”

“I don’t care,” she panted.

“I do,” he said, wrapping his left arm around her and flipping her beneath him. “Gods I’ve missed you so.”

~:~:~:~

At first light, there was food ready in the hall and the horses were packed. Brienne returned to her post and assisted Sam with taking Bran to their small wheelhouse. She’d had the mattress from Bran’s bed from the Inn, as well as several pillows and furs, brought along for the remainder of their journey to make Bran more comfortable. He barely seemed to care or notice. She pulled Sam aside and asked him if the ravens had given Bran any insight after she’d left them the night before.

“Yes my Lady; the army of the dead, are nearly at the Gods Eye. We should reach Harrenhal in two days. I only hope we make it in time.”

“In time for what?” she asked.

“In time for Bran to save Aegon. You’re aware the Lord of Light brought Aegon back from the dead?”

“Yes but what does that have to do with anything?”

“The Lord of Light is going to try to use Aegon to defeat the Night King but he’s going to need Bran’s help to win. Bran finally saw Daenerys and Aegon. They’d done as he thought and were fighting the Golden Company and Lannister army near Harrenhal. Aegon has convinced those who were left standing after the battle, to help us. We’re all on the same side now my Lady.”

“Should I relay this information to Ser Jaime?” Brienne was anxious and could feel the urgency in Sam’s voice.

“He’s already been informed. We should get going. The column is moving.”

Brienne turned to see the line of soldiers ahead of them progressing now. She mounted her horse and led the small wheelhouse and wagons onward as they all headed to Harrenhal.

~:~:~:~

They could see the plumes of white smoke for miles, coming from the direction of Harrenhal. “As if the dragons of centuries ago hadn’t done enough,” Sam muttered to Brienne. He’d taken to horseback for a few hours as the wheelhouse was dark and gloomy, and Bran had been warging for quite a while in silence.

“It appears beyond cursed now. It’s getting dark. We should camp here for the night,” Brienne said.

“Ser Jaime will stop the van soon,” Sam said solemnly.

“What is it, Sam?” Brienne asked, noticing his sad expression.

“Oh, many things. They come and they go as thoughts do and all of them are either concern of what will happen and what I’ve left behind.”

“Your young lady and child?”

“Yes, Gilly and little Sam. They’re my family now—my only family.”

“And what will be?”

“Yes, the fear of the unknown. I think perhaps that is my biggest fear. I know many will die and never live to see summer return. For years this land has seen war upon war. I don’t like thinking about losing people. We’ve all lost more than enough already.”

“For now, try to think about that summer for your family. I find thinking about those I love and the future gives me hope, but even more than that, they give me the strength to carry on.” Brienne rested her gloved hand over her abdomen and smiled. “Look, the van is stopping,” she said, pulling her horse to stop. “Sam, would you mind sending a raven for me to the Eyrie?”

“Of course not my Lady,” he answered.

“Watch over Bran for a bit, would you? I want to help get things settled here. I’ll be back to write that message for Lady Sansa within the hour.”

Brienne rode off and assisted with setting up the camp. Their numbers had dwindled and yet she found such resilience among their remaining banner-men. It was less than an hour when she spied the unmistakable silhouette of her husband riding towards her as she returned to Bran’s wheelhouse.

“All accounted for I hope?” he asked as he dismounted.

“As far as I can tell we didn’t lose anyone, and Brandon is well. He’s much more comfortable now. Samwell is preparing some stew for him,” she answered, smiling.

“I was talking about you and our child,” Jaime grinned, and then kissed her lightly on her chilled and rosy cheek.

She chuckled softly and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. “Seven hells it’s starting to snow again. When this is over if I never see snow again it will be far too soon.”

“I agree. If our child wants to see snow, we’ll take him north to Winterfell for a visit. Otherwise, I want green grass and warm sunny afternoons for us for the rest of our days.” Jaime wrapped his hand around her waist beneath her cloak.

“I’m so glad I’m here with you, Jaime,” she whispered to him as she placed her gloved hands on his bearded jaw and pressed her chilled lips to his. They kissed for several moments until she heard Samwell clearing his throat behind her.

“My Lady, do you still want to send the raven?” he asked shyly with a hint of embarrassment for interrupting such a tender moment.

She turned inside of Jaime’s embrace and looked back at Sam. “I do. Just a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

“A raven?” Jaime asked.

“To Sansa. I’m certain she’s worrying herself to death wondering if I’m all right and I’d like to make sure she’s well too.”

“I have to get back to work,” Jaime whispered with a frown. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Brienne said, kissing him one final time.

“Listen to me…we ride on Harrenhal in the morning. I want you and Brandon to stay back.”

“We can’t,” she protested. “Bran insists Aegon needs his help to defeat the Night King. We need to be there, Jaime. Please understand.”

“I’ll understand but only if you promise me you’ll stay away from the fighting. You and the baby, Brienne,” he paused, looking down at the freshly fallen snow and then up at her from beneath his brow. “You are my family. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Then that makes two of us. Does that mean you won’t fight tomorrow either?”

“If I die, it’s only me. You have our future inside of you. He’s part of us both. He doesn’t have a choice and it’s wrong to sacrifice him to a battle he had no part in.” Jaime pulled her against him again, speaking deeply into her sapphire eyes.

“You have my word. I’ll do everything in my power to keep out of this fight. I’ll find a way to get Bran on a boat to the God’s Eye but I’ll keep as far from any danger as I am able.”

Jaime blew out a sigh of relief. “You know, you’re the only person alive whom I trust when they give me their word?”

“I feel the same about you, dear husband. Now, give me your word you won’t die tomorrow and be on your way.”

“Brienne, you know I can’t do that. I…”

“Then give me your word you’ll do everything in your power not to die. No giving up. No foolish Knightly kneeling either. Fight with your heart.” She took his left hand and brought it to her lips and kissed his gloved knuckles. “Fight with your heart and your hand will remember.”

Jaime nodded and they parted. “Send your Raven, Lady Lannister. Give my best to everyone, will you?” he said, wrapping the reins of his horse around his hand, as he walked away backwards in the snow. Brienne stood still, unable to look away from him. “And tell our child I love him!” he shouted, before he climbed into his saddle and rode away.

“I will!” she waved and shouted. Her waving hand slid slowly down to her side as he faded out of sight. “I’ll tell him…or maybe her,” she whispered to herself. Suddenly, her palm pressed flat against her stomach just below her belly button. She leaned forward a bit and then stepped quickly to the wheelhouse and sat down on the step, her hand still pressed against the leather cuisses shielding her belly beneath her tassets.

“My Lady, are you all right?” she heard Samwell ask as he rushed to her.

“Yes…yes, I just felt something. Like the flutter of butterflies.”

“If you don’t mind me saying my Lady, you’re with child, aren’t you?” Sam asked curiously, glancing down at her belly and back up, meeting her eyes.

“I’m not in pain Sam if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, no my Lady, I can see that. It’s just the little baby my Lady, telling you he’s there. The little fellow must have done a bit of a toss over. How exciting for you!”

Brienne looked at Sam. Her eyes widened. She hadn’t felt the baby move before. She wasn’t sure in that moment if she even knew babies moved at all. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh no, don’t cry! It’s just the quickening. I read about it in a book when Gilly was pregnant with little Sam. I wanted to know all about babies.”

“Will it do that all the time now?” Brienne asked, rising again to her feet with Sam’s assistance.

“Here and there. It must be very exciting for you.”

“Yes…” was all she could say. Knowing the baby was growing inside of her and actually feeling it were miles apart. Now, Jaime’s words were thrust to the forefront of her mind and stayed there, unshakable. When she swept the tears away from her eyes, she looked off into the direction he had ridden and was sad. Mere moments and she could have told him, that when she told their child he loved him, he said I love you too.

      


	31. Protector of the Realm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battles and saga continue.

The column slowed to a stop. Jaime and Ser Jorah rode ahead to a ridge and looked down over the scene below. Their eyes beheld an ocean of soldiers of every banner, as far as the eye could see. Horses, tents, smoking campfires, even several elephants, and yet there was no fighting. There were no dead soldiers to be seen. Off at a distance of half a mile, were several huge smoldering pyres. Jaime glanced over at Jorah. “The dead,” he said low and soft, confirming their thoughts were aligned.   

“I don’t understand. I expected to find a war going on here,” Ser Jorah said, adjusting himself in his saddle.

“Where’d they all go? Tarly and Bran said this would be the end,” Jaime replied.

“Look, beyond on the Isle of Faces,” Jorah said, raising his arm and pointing out across the water.

“White smoke. There was a fire but it appears to be out now and only smoldering,” Jaime observed, thinking aloud.

“Dragon battle perhaps?”

“I can only assume, since those dead things can’t swim, and there were most certainly dragons here.” Jaime pointed out the huge strips and patches of burned land throughout the encampment. They were now pools of mud where snow had been.  “I’ll lead a scouting party down into the camp. Inform everyone to stay here at the ready until I return.”

“And if you don’t return? I know you know your sigils Ser Jaime. Most of those are Lannister and the Golden Company. What if we simply…” Jorah’s words halted.

Jorah and Jaime’s eyes were pulled immediately to the sky. The unmistakable sound of the great Drogon filled the air with the woosh and thump of his mighty wings, and the screech that still sent shivers down their aching spines echoed above them.

“I was about to say perhaps we should wait and watch a while,” Jorah said, finishing his thought. “It appears we won’t have to wait very long.”

Drogon swooped in over their heads and circled their van of exhausted and war worn soldiers—or what remained of them, several times before landing in the snow some hundred yards away.

“Their eyes will have followed the beast. What if they’ve noticed us?” Jorah asked, wheeling his horse around to face the dragon.

“I don’t foresee any of them following a dragon up here, even if they did,” Jaime replied, coming around next to Jorah. He noticed an anxious expression on Jorah’s face. He was stretching his neck to see if there was a rider.

Jaime clucked his tongue at his horse, and they rode off towards Drogon but maintained a safe distance on his perimeter until they could see his rider. It was Daenerys. As they approached, she was descending Drogon’s wing. When she reached the snow-covered ground, she stumbled a bit and then righted herself, leaning against the beast for support.

Jorah leapt from his horse and ran towards her as Jaime followed, but she held her palm to him and cried out, “Wait! He’s injured. Keep your distance or he may strike.”

Upon her warning, Jaime and Jorah stopped. It was then that Jaime noticed the trail of blood that glowed crimson against the stark white ground around the animal where he’d descended to land. At the distance of where they stood, they could now also see the wounds on the beast’s neck. When he swung his tail slowly back and forth, a fan of red formed in the snow beneath it.

“Is he gravely injured your Grace?” Jorah called out, as Daenerys walked slowly towards them. She nodded and glanced back at Drogon, now lowering his enormous head and resting it on his wing. “He’ll survive.”

When she was what they deemed a safe distance from Drogon, Jorah rushed to her and she collapsed in his arms. He lifted her and cradled her. Her head fell forward against his chest and she closed her eyes.

“Here,” Jaime said, pulling Jorah’s horse by the reins to meet him. Jorah gently lifted Daenerys onto the saddle and led her back towards the van.

“What’s happened? Is she injured?” Jaime heard Brienne’s voice cry out as she arrived to meet them. Her horse galloped slowly, meeting Jaime and joining him for the ride back.

“We don’t know. We’ll take her to Bran’s wheelhouse and let Sam check her over,” Jaime said.

Brienne looked back at the giant black figure curled up in the snow and then back at Jaime. “Is it dead?”

“I don’t think so but the poor thing has taken a hell of a beating,” Jaime replied, meeting Brienne’s eyes with deep worry.

 “And the King?”

“He wasn’t with her. I suppose she’ll tell all once she’s caught her wind,” Jaime answered.

Jaime and Brienne assigned a group of soldiers to keep watch from the ridge. They rode off after Jorah to wait for word on what Daenerys would have to tell them when she awoke. When they arrived, Jorah laid Daenerys in the wheel house and waited while Sam examined her. After several minutes, Sam shrugged and said, “I believe she’s just exhausted and needs rest. Perhaps we could wait a while to find out from her own lips what happened.”

“We don’t have time. Ser Jorah, bring some water,” Jaime said.

Daenerys’ eyes fluttered open and she looked around. Finding Sam’s face, she began to sit up, only to be held down gently by him. “Your Grace, please, you need rest,” Sam said, taking the skin of water from Jorah’s hand and placing it to her lips.

She drank slowly at first and then raised her head and took several long gulps. “He’s alone on the Gods Eye…with the Night King.” Her words were filled with air. “He sent me away…the baby.”

“It appears the baby is fine, your Grace. What happened to Drogon?” Sam asked.

“He killed Rheagal. It was horrible.” A tear rolled from her eyes. “Where is he? Where is Drogon?” she asked, trying again to sit up.

“He’s resting. He’s injured badly but he lives,” Jaime spoke up and said. “Your Grace, you said the King was alone with the Night King on the island. What happened?”

“They’re going to fight but Aegon doesn’t understand,” Bran spoke and said.

“Doesn’t understand what?” Jaime asked. Brienne leaned in and clutched his arm.

“Valyrian steel won’t kill the Night King. Black dragon glass won’t kill him either. At Hardhome, when he tried to save the Wildlings from the Wight Walkers, he went back for dragon glass that was in one of the keeps but he couldn’t get it. It was green,” Bran said.

“Green dragon glass,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“What of green dragon glass?” Brienne asked.

“He needs green dragon glass to kill the Night King,” Bran said.

“Can you see them?” Daenerys asked, pushing herself up onto an elbow.

Bran’s eyes went white and he was gone.

“Do we have any green dragon glass?” Jaime asked.

“I don’t know. We’ve a wagon full of it but I don’t know if any of it is green,” Sam answered.

“Come, let’s go,” Jaime turned to Brienne and said.

They mounted their horses and rode off towards the supply wagons until they came upon a group of soldiers who were minding the weapons. A young lad with a round face and thick mop of sandy brown hair met them. “Whatcha lookin’ for milord?”

“Dragon glass,” Jaime replied, climbing down from his horse.

The lad pulled back a tarp on the wagon and exposed several crates, all filled with dragon glass daggers—all black. “Damn it!” Jaime shouted, slamming the lids of the crates to the ground as he loosened them. He and Brienne began pulling the crates from the wagon and dumping them onto the snowy ground. Brienne went to her knees and pawed through the piled looking for anything other than black.

“Milord, what exactly is you’re lookin’ for?” the lad asked.

“Anything but black!” Jaime shouted as he dumped the last crate. “Would you mind assisting us in this search? We haven’t much time!” he shouted.

The lad turned and walked off, leaving Jaime with a dumfounded expression. “Where the hell are you going?” Jaime shouted after him.

“Oh, leave him, Jaime,” Brienne said, falling back in the snow. She stood and dusted it off her cloak and pants and kicked at the dragon glass with her boot. “It’s no use. There’s nothing here.”

Jaime leaned back against the wagon. “I remember Tyrion telling me how much dragon glass was at Dragonstone. It’s impossible that with all they dug out of there, that there wasn’t any green.”

“Milord!” the lad said, pouncing back towards them through the snow. He was carrying a large sack over his shoulder and appeared to be quite weighted down by it.

“What is it?” Jaime asked, as the lad dropped the sack on the ground before him.

“When we was loadin’ up the wagon, and fillin’ the crates, we was told only the black glass was for the weapons. So all this was what was left.”

Jaime’s eyes widened as he and Brienne opened the sack. There before him was not only green dragon glass but red and purple as well. “Gods be good!” Brienne shouted. “Quick, we need to get this to Aegon!” She tied up the sack and sped off to her horse. Jaime didn’t move. He stood still, gazing down at the green dragon glass in his hand.

“What are you doing? Let’s go,” Brienne said, tying the sack to her saddle.

“How will we get this to him? Swim?” he asked, looking up at her as she mounted her horse.

“We’ll find a way. Now let’s go,” she answered, flipping her chin towards Jaime’s horse.

 Jaime climbed into his saddle and they rode off back to the wheelhouse. When they reached Sam and the others, Daenerys was sitting up. She was finishing the water and eating a piece of dark bread smeared with honey. “It will give you strength,” Sam said.

“We found it. We have not only green but red and purple as well,” Jaime said, pulling several of the daggers from the sack on Brienne’s saddle.

Immediately Daenerys set down the water and bread and began climbing to her feet to exit the wheelhouse. “Out of my way.”

“But your Grace, you can’t,” Jorah said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re not strong enough to…”

“I know what I’m strong enough to do. Give me your horse, Brienne. I need to get to Drogon and take this to Aegon,” she ordered, holding out the dagger of green glass at him.

Jaime looked over at Brienne and she nodded, and immediately handed over her horse. Jaime knew simply by look in Brienne’s eyes that she understood all too well that no one or nothing would stop her either, if she were in Daenerys position. They all followed her from the wheelhouse and watched as she pulled herself up into the saddle of Brienne’s horse.

“Find out what he’s seen,” she ordered, nodding her head back at the wheelhouse. They understood her to mean Bran.

 Sam climbed the few steps and peeked inside the doorway at Bran, who still sat, his eyes rolled over white. “Brandon! Brandon!” he shouted. A few seconds passed and Bran’s white eyes returned to brown.

“They’re not fighting. They’re…speaking. They’re speaking of war and Winterfell and death,” Bran said softly.

Sam turned back to Daenerys, now fuming with impatience. “Go, go do what you must do. They’re not fighting. Bran said they’re only speaking.”

Daenerys wheeled the horse around and rode off.

“Should we go after her?” Brienne asked.

“She knows what she’s doing and what must be done,” Jorah said, coming to her side.

~:~:~:~

As the hours passed, they watched the camp below as the fires turned from wisps of black smoke in the wind to glowing orange orbs in the darkness. They made their camp and waited for Daenerys and Aegon to return. Jaime and Brienne, along with Sam and Jorah waited patiently. Bran had been quiet for hours. They knew he was off and away, most likely aside Aegon in the Gods Eye. What he could do or should or shouldn’t do made no matter to them. It wasn’t as if they had any control over it anyway. All they could do was sit and wait and hope that Aegon had found a peaceful solution to all of this to end it.

“Walk with me,” Jaime said, offering Brienne his hand. He pulled her up from a dead tree stump where she sat and led her away from the wheelhouse and the camp.

“We shouldn’t go far. They could return any moment,” Brienne said, as she glanced over her shoulder at the campfires as they grew smaller. They didn’t go far—no more than fifty yards but far enough to speak freely yet not place themselves in any danger.

“We need to discuss what we’re going to do if they don’t return,” Jaime said, still holding Brienne’s hand.

“I don’t think I’ve even considered that until this moment.” Her eyes widened and a look of concern shown on her face. “You’re in command here, Jaime. You’re right. We need to decide what to do.”

“Have you noticed? We haven’t seen any of those dead things since we arrived here? And I simply do not believe the Golden Company and the Lannister army, what’s left of them down there anyway, defeated them all.”

“Where could they be?” Brienne asked. The urgency in her voice caused it to raise to where Jaime hushed her. “Where could they have gone?” she asked in a whisper.

“My only guess is south. They could be in Kings Landing or as far as Highgarden by now for all we know.”

“Wouldn’t Brandon know? We should ask him.”

“Yes we should and we will but we have to decide what to do. Do I turn all of these soldiers around and take them back north? Do I lead them all to the Vale? Do we head to Maidenpool and try to find some ships to get us to Tarth? I mean, there’s no guarantee there will be any ships at all.”

“My father. I can have Samwell send a raven to my father. He’ll send ships for us I know he will,” Brienne said, clutching Jaime’s cloak.

“It will take weeks for him to send ships. We don’t have time and there’s no point trying to send a raven to Maidenpool. We don’t even know if there’s anyone left alive there.” Jaime lowered his head.

“The Vale. The Vale is the closest and we both know it is quite secure. Not that I look forward to climbing that damned mountain again but…” Brienne stopped.

“What is it?” Jaime asked as her hand went to her abdomen and she stilled, frozen in place for several seconds. “Are you all right? Is it the baby?”

Brienne closed her eyes and smiled. “I haven’t had a moment to tell you. The baby has started to move and I can feel it now. Sam says it’s still no bigger than my thumb but he or she has apparently decided to take up dancing at the strangest times.” Brienne smiled wider and a laugh escaped her lips.

Jaime was speechless. He pulled her tightly against him and kissed her deeply for several moments. He wondered if he’d ever held her so tight. As their lips parted, he pressed his forehead to hers and at last he spoke. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you. Fuck this war. Fuck it all. You and our child are the only things that matter to me. We’re going back and find out what Brandon knows and I’m taking you back to the Vale.”

“Jaime we can’t. We can’t abandon all of these people. That isn’t us. You know that,” she said, pleading.

“Come. We’re going to get answers and then, I’m getting you and our child somewhere far from here.”

Jaime at last let go and they headed back to the camp. When they arrived at the wheelhouse, Sam was inside asleep and Jorah sat by the fire, stoking it with a long stick. He rose to his feet upon seeing Jaime and Brienne returning.

“No word yet?” Jaime asked.

“The boy is still…he hasn’t come out of it yet,” Jorah replied.

Jaime climbed up into the wheelhouse and called to Bran, “Brandon! Brandon!”

Sam stirred and awoke. “Ser Jaime, what are you doing?” he asked, knuckling his eyes.

“We need answers! We can’t just sit here and wait to decide what we’re to do next! I have over a thousand men out here in the freezing cold! I need to know what I’m to tell them!”

“I understand. B…But we need to wait until Bran can tell us what he’s seen,” Sam stammered, looking up at the tall angry man looming over him in the darkness.

“Ser Jaime,” Bran said quietly, causing Jaime to jerk and turn. “They’ll be returning very soon.”

“Well, what’s happened?” Jaime demanded.

“The green dragon glass. The Children of the Forest created the Night King with the black dragon glass. The green, saved him.”

“The theories were true then?” Sam’s voice was urgent and filled with excitement.

“Yes, Aegon used the green dragon glass to break the curse. It’s over. The army of the dead is no more. The peace has been made,” Bran said. “However, Cersei is sending word to her remaining armies and the Golden Company to begin taking back the seven kingdoms.”

“Wait, you’ve seen Kings Landing?” Jaime asked.

“You should prepare yourself Ser Jaime. The Night King has left the Red Keep, as well as many of the castles in Westeros in ruin.”

“But…why? Why did he do all this?” Jaime shouted.

“The followers of the Lord of Light had grown so large in numbers. They were plotting a war on us all or rather, anyone they deem as evil. They believed their way was the only way. They’d plotted to destroy the Night King and anyone else who got in their way. He’s a powerful Greenseer. He saw everything. He watched us for thousands of years, warring and fighting and killing. He was the only King in Westeros who had neither started nor fought in a war in all that time. None of us knew or cared what he did beyond the wall as long as he didn’t bother us, until it was too late.”

“You make it sound as if this Night King did all of this to save us from ourselves. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I just don’t see it that way at all. We’ve lost thousands of men, not to mention all of the innocents he’s slaughtered for his dead army.”

“He needed the army to stop R’hllor’s followers. It was a horrible strategy but it was the only way.” Bran’s voice trailed off.

“All of this over Gods who if you ask me, don’t even exist. I have certainly never seen any nor have they spared me any woe,” Jaime said with disgust as he rubbed his brow.

Bran raised is head slowly and answered, “You are correct Ser Jaime. Man made the Gods. The Gods did not make the men. In the north, we say we follow the Old Gods but the Old Gods are the Weirwood trees. The blood of man feeds them. Only, the magic of the Weirwood trees isn’t God like as those who worship believe. They’re there to record our lives, our triumphs and failures and to secure the memories of those who’ve come before us, so that we learn from the past.”

“And what do we do now?” Brienne asked, having slipped into the wheelhouse as Bran spoke.

“The last war,” Bran said and laid his head back to rest.

~:~:~:~

 Jaime and Ser Jorah gathered up their troops. The watchers on the ridge reported the banners below at Harren Hall were mobilizing again. Another hour had passed, and Aegon and Daenerys hadn’t returned. Jaime decided the best thing for them to do was to head back north. Brienne assessed their supplies and organized a group of men to ride ahead as scouts, as well as to take any deer or other game they spotted as well. They would again move forward north with the intent to reach the Crossroads as fast as they could.

“Does this feel a bit to you as if we’re retreating?” Ser Jorah asked, as he and Jaime rode side by side.

“I don’t care what it feels like, Mormont. These men are worn to a stump of who they were when we left Winterfell. We’ve been fighting for months. Until I see the King and Queen and receive orders otherwise, we go north.”

He wouldn’t have to wait long. Drogon’s roar and the black shadow, as wide as the Green Fork covered them. He circled twice and then landed in a field just east of their position. Immediately, Jaime and Jorah rode off in his direction to await the King and Queen but again, only Daenerys was riding him.

“Your Grace,” Jorah exclaimed, leaping from his horse to meet her half way.

“Aegon?” Jaime asked, catching up to them.

“Kings Landing. He insisted on going to speak with your sister and try to convince her to call a truce,” she said. “You are to head back to Winterfell and prepare for whatever she decides.”

“Does he honestly believe she’ll accept a truce?” Jaime shouted. “What, like her promise to fight with us? She’s going to have her monster kill him you know that don’t you?”

“If you’d like to stop him by all means you are welcome to. I tried but my armies need direction and my people need me,” she answered through her teeth. “Now either you lead them or I will.”

“Where are her armies headed?” Jaime asked.

“The Reach. The people of Kings Landing are starving. She’s sending her armies south to gather anything that’s left.”

“Anything you didn’t burn you mean?” Jaime said under his breath.

“Would you like to go back to Kings Landing or what’s left of it?”

“You still want that stinking twisted iron monstrosity? Then fine, you lead this army away and back into the North.” Just then, Jaime stopped and looked up. He pinched his eyes and his hand instinctively went to his brow. His face grew warm and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

“Winter is over. Now as I said, we fight the last war,” Daenerys said, motioning to Ser Jorah to help her onto his horse. Jaime watched as Jorah climbed onto the horse and Daenerys embraced him from behind. “Do what you like Jaime Lannister. Perhaps I’ll see you again someday.”

Jaime mounted his horse and rode off in search of Brienne. As he’d expected, she was at her post by the wheelhouse. She was speaking with Sam.

“Brienne,” Jaime called out, climbing down from his mount.

“Did you speak with the Queen?” she asked, excusing herself from Sam.

“I did. She’s taking the army north to prepare for battle. Aegon, the fool, has gone to Kings Landing to meet with Cersei. He has it in his head she’ll abide by some truce. She’ll never do it Brienne. She has nothing left to lose.”

“She’ll kill him and anyone with him,” Brienne said, clutching Jaime’s hand.

“The Queen doesn’t seem too concerned which is quite puzzling. Either way, I have to go to Kings Landing. I’m the only one she’ll listen to.”

“Like she listened to you the last time?” Brienne exclaimed.

“Listen to me, she thought she was carrying an heir. She’s alone. She has no one left. I believe I can convince her to give up and accept that it’s over. The throne belongs to Aegon.”

Brienne fell silent. “I’m coming with you.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Jaime winced as he spoke. “Brienne, the second she lays eyes on you she’ll kill you. Don’t you understand? Please, if you never do another thing for me, stay with the van and go back to Winterfell!”

Jaime knew Brienne felt the flutter again. Her hand instinctively pressed against her abdomen and she gasped slightly and her other hand clutched Jaime’s.

“Do you see? Our child Brienne. Our child needs you to be safe. I swear to you by whatever Gods or magic or hell exists that somehow I will make it back to you. Please,” he begged, wrapping her up in his arms.

“I will,” he heard her whisper into his ear. “For you and our child, I will go to Winterfell.”

Jaime pulled her in tighter and held her for what seemed like hours until at last, she let him go and backed away. “My darling, I’ve never loved whole heartedly until I loved you. You told me before to fight with my heart and believe me when I tell you, if I am forced to fight, my heart will defeat everything,” Jaime said. The corners of his eyes glistened.

~:~:~:~

The ground had turned to mud by the third day on the road to Winterfell. By the second week, it was dry and the mud cracked in the sunshine of the new spring. The air was crisp and clean and grass sprouted everywhere along the Kings Road. The trees were budding and the wagons overflowed with furs and pelts from their backs as well as from the game they’d taken. Men laughed and sang as they walked or rode. Streams overflowed with cool water from the melting snows. As each day passed, people began to emerge from their hidden places and could be seen working in fields or gathering buckets of water at those fast running streams.

The world was alive again.

Brienne rode beside the wheelhouse and chatted endlessly with Samwell, who had taken to sitting in the doorway, allowing the fresh air in. They slept beneath clear black starry skies and smiled when Drogon occasionally appeared overhead, following his mother as she rode at the front of the van. There had been neither word nor sign from Jaime. Sam had sent several ravens to his trusted contacts in Kings Landing but the birds never returned. He gave up after several attempts out of fear he’d lose them all. The only ravens that returned came from the Vale and from Tarth. Brienne surmised those were the only places left in Westeros that were left untouched. She was grateful at least for that.

The last Raven from the Vale gave Brienne a hopeful heart. Sansa and Podrick were returning to Winterfell too. Robin had granted them one hundred knights to escort them, although Brienne believed it was Bronn who’d in fact orchestrated the whole thing. He’d decided to stay on for a while. He’d taken Robin under his wing and swore to make a true Lord out of him before he moved on to a castle of his own.

By the end of the second month, Brienne’s belly had swollen. They were mere weeks from Winterfell and the baby growing within her was sweet company for her now. No longer able to wear her armor, she fastened only her breastplate to protect her unborn child. Sam giggled at her as it stuck out over her belly and joked that when he wore armor it looked much the same. He was such good company. He only brought on her melancholy when he spoke of Gilly and how he couldn’t wait to see her and little Sam.

On the morning before they would at last arrive at Winterfell, Brienne looked back at the horizon one last time. She longed for the sound of the horn that riders were approaching but it did not come. She at last asked Sam for one final raven. It was his last piece of parchment and she barely had enough ink to pen the words.

“Are you certain you want to do this? I mean to say, Ser Jaime and the King could be but days behind us now,” Sam said, having read the letter when she handed it to him for the bird.

“I’ll leave you as my messenger. Then he will know where I am.”

_Dear Father,_

_We will be arriving at Winterfell on the morrow. As I near the sixth month of my pregnancy, I will rest there for a fortnight and then make the journey to White Harbor. I’m coming home._

_Brienne_


	32. Little Dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All stories have a beginning, a middle and unfortunately, an end.

The two weeks back at Winterfell passed quickly. Brienne still had no word from Jaime and she continued with her plan to leave for White Harbor. There had been no sightings of any Wights, only the still, lifeless corpses of what was an army of them, now burning in great pyres from north to south. Soldiers returned to their homes. Families searched for survivors and blessed rains fell almost every night, to wash away the ash and smoke from the smoldering fires and wash the lands clean again.

Those who’d lost everything in the war poured into Wintertown to restart their lives in the restoration of the new north, and were making great strides. Hammering and sawing could be heard from dawn until dusk as men, women and children worked tirelessly to restore Winterfell to her former glory. Those nightly rains brought fresh water, grass and wildlife back and with it, despite their many losses, the sounds of laughter and nightly feasts in the great hall where the small folk could share their tales of woe as well as their dreams of this new and blessed spring.

Having arrived back at Winterfell only days before Brienne’s planned departure; Sansa had made it her mission to convince Brienne to stay on there, and wait until the child was born and to not give up hope on Jaime.

“Is Sam still sending birds south?” Sansa asked, watching Brienne pack her trunk for her journey.

“Daily,” Brienne answered.

“I brought all of the things I made for the baby with me. They’re still packed in a trunk for you if you’d like to look at them again. I made more, as well as some knitted blankets.”

“Thank you Sansa. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me...for us,” Brienne said, finally raising her eyes.

“You and Pod saved my life. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

“And you have my Lady. Has there been any word of your sister?”

“No. Not since before we left the Eyrie. A message came that she and Ser Sandor were heading back here to Winterfell but that was before the letter I sent to you informing you that Pod and I were coming home. I know she’s alive. You know what they say; we Starks are hard to kill…especially that one,” Sansa said and smiled.

“I wish I could be so sure about Jaime and King Aegon,” Brienne replied. She lifted the picture of Jaime that Sansa had drawn for her and tucked it carefully between several linen tunics in her trunk. “I haven’t given up hope. I don’t want you to think that. But I made a promise to Jaime when we said goodbye. I promised him I’d do whatever it took to protect our child. I intend to keep that promise.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason to stay here? You’re nearly seven months along now. What if you have rough seas and the baby comes early? I’m here now and Gilly too. Gilly knows a lot more about babies and motherhood than me, but I think the practice will serve me well when my own child comes.” Sansa looked up from where she sat and waited for Brienne’s response with a grin.

“All very good reasons I have to admit. Maybe I’m just homesick and my father isn’t getting any younger. With the air growing warmer with each passing day, I can’t tell myself I’m fleeing the cold anymore can I?” Brienne said with a smile. “So, a baby in your future? Does this mean you and Pod, have already spoken of children?”

“Oh we’ve done more than spoken of it,” Sansa said over a soft laugh.

“I was on the road with you quite some time, remember? It’s a miracle you don’t already have a child,” Brienne sniggered.

Sansa continued smiling queerly at Brienne.

Brienne’s expression changed to a quizzical smirk. “Lady Sansa, are you with child?”

Sansa blinked slowly and said, “I am. I haven’t had my moon blood since before we left the Eyrie. Oh and before we left, Lord Robin gave me away to my now betrothed husband, Ser Podrick Payne. However, since we will be residing here at Winterfell of course, and feverishly working on rebuilding the Stark family, he has conceded to take the name Stark.”

Brienne was speechless. She thought at last, something to celebrate and be joyful about. She tossed her neatly folded garments aside, swept around the bed and scooped Sansa up into her arms for a tight embrace. “Thank the Gods. I thought you might never give in to what was completely obvious to everyone else and marry that lad.”

“I needed time and,” she said, releasing Brienne at last but resting her palms against the rounded softness of Brienne’s belly between them. “Peace. I couldn’t bear the thought of the uncertainty of what the world would be like for a child or a marriage for that matter. You see, I wasn’t as brave as you. I don’t know that I ever have been until now.”

Brienne cupped Sansa’s face in her hands and said, “My darling, you’re the bravest woman I know. You’re a survivor, and no one, especially me could fault you for your caution and doubts. You truly are and were always meant to be the Lady of Winterfell.”

“So will you please stay? I need you now more than ever; as my friend,” Sansa asked, her eyes wet with emotion.

A knock came at Brienne’s chamber door. She hugged Sansa tightly again and then went to open it.

“Hello my Lady, is Lady Sansa with you?” the girl asked. “All the men are at work on the castle and I was so excited I…”

“Who is this?” Brienne exclaimed, looking down at the wobbly and giggling blond toddler at the girl’s side. She held his tiny hand tightly as he squirmed and tried to pull away.

“Gilly!” Sansa shouted as she ran for the door. “Little Sam is walking!” she cried as she knelt down and smiled. “Brienne, this is Gilly, Samwell Tarley’s wife and their son, little Sam.”

“I’ve seen you and the boy many times since I’ve been back but it’s so nice to finally meet you, Gilly. What a handsome little man you have there,” Brienne said, unable to shake her smile.

“I’m in trouble now for sure. He’s on his feet for good so they’ll be no rest for me,” Gilly said with a sigh as Sansa swept him up into her arms. “When’s yer baby due?”

Brienne looked down and placed a hand atop her belly. “The Maester said two months. He’s a busy one for sure. I can already barely sleep with his nightly carrying on but when he doesn’t, I can’t sleep from worrying until he kicks me again.”

“Get used to it. Ye won’t get any sleep for the first few months anyway. Then the night will come outta the blue when ye wake up and the sun is shining and you’ll sit up and run to his cradle. There he’ll be peacefully sleeping away and yer heart will slide back down outta yer throat and start beating again. You’ll most likely just sit and watch until he wakes.” Gilly said, as Sansa handed the squirming toddler back to her.

“Sounds lovely,” Brienne said, tossing little Sam’s blond locks as he swiped her hand away playfully.

“Well, I’m off to find Sam. We’ll need a pen now so the boy doesn’t get into everything and hurt himself. There’s plenty of builders here now so I’m sure one of ‘em will be glad for a few extra coins for the job. See ye ladies at supper?” Gilly asked, adjusting little Sam on her hip as she stepped to the door.

Sansa looked over at Brienne and nodded a pleading smile.

“Yes. Yes, we’ll see you at supper,” Brienne said and watched Gilly go.

“For the last time, and I am begging, please stay until the baby comes,” Sansa said, standing in the doorway about to leave.

Brienne reached down and took Sansa’s hand. “I’ll send a raven to my father and tell him that I’ve decided to stay here until the baby comes, but that as soon as we are both healthy enough to travel, I’ll be coming home.”

Sansa squealed with delight. “I’m so happy. I can’t wait to tell Pod.” She turned quickly and called for Gilly to wait.

“Sansa, what are you doing?” Brienne shouted after her as she bolted off, her skirts bouncing in her wake.

“To help Gilly find Sam; we need a cradle and a pen now!” 

 ~:~:~:~

“Has the midwife been called?” Brienne asked as she paced the long hallway outside of her chamber. Her palms were pressed tightly against her spine as she labored.

“Brienne, I wish you’d get into bed and wait for her to come. Yes, she was sent for an hour ago but Sam is coming too.”

“Sam?” she shouted. “Oh my bloody hell!”

“Yes, Sam helped bring little Sam my Lady,” Gilly said, wrapping her arm around Brienne’s back and curling beneath her arm to support her as she walked.

“Where is Sansa?” Brienne asked. A pained expression grew on her face until a roar escaped her lips and she buckled. Podrick stood nervously against the wall. He was pressed so hard against it, it appeared he was trying to disappear inside the stones.

“Podrick help me get her to bed please,” Gilly said calmly yet her expression was fierce. “It’s all right my Lady. Lady Sansa went to gather everything we’ll need to bring the baby. I’m sure she’ll be back very soon.”

Podrick took Brienne up under her other arm once the birthing pain subsided and she again straightened her back. “I’m g-going to help you to bed now my Lady,” he stammered.

“Ahhhh!” she cried out again.

“Now Podrick or she’s having this baby out here in the hallway,” Gilly said.

“My waters, my waters are coming,” Brienne said over a gasp of breath as she stopped and the puddle pooled around her bare feet. Podrick swept her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way into the room, and gently placed her on the bed.

“Pod, please go find lady Sansa and the midwife, and Sam,” Gilly said, as she pushed Brienne’s long legs until they were bent at the knees and examined the progress of the birth. Her eyes widened and without looking away she shouted. “Now!”

“Is everything all right?” Brienne asked with concern. She raised her head and looked down at Gilly, who was now gathering the blanket about Brienne’s bottom and tucking it beneath her.

“Everything is just perfect. You’re doing wonderful. Try not to push yet though. We have to let the baby do the work right now to make his way out.” Gilly ran to the wash basin and poured the pitcher of water into the bowl. She hurriedly washed her hands up to her elbows and dried them on a clean cloth.

“Where is she?” Brienne heard someone calling out, out in the hallway.

“She’s down here!” Brienne heard Sansa’s voice at last and her head fell back in relief.

“Sit up just a bit my Lady so I can get these pillows behind your back. You’ll be much more comfortable when…”

The door blew open. “Stop! You can’t just bust in here like that!” Gilly shouted, as Brienne roared again as another hard pain overtook her. Her head fell back again as she tried not to push.

“The hell I can’t! That’s my wife!”

Brienne screamed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Jaime was taking hold of her hand and looking down into her eyes. “Gods be good! Is it you?” she cried. “Is it really you?” her other hand flew to his cheek. It was wet with tears. He leaned down and kissed her hard and fast on the lips and then he turned to Gilly and nodded.

“He’s ready my Lady. I can see his head. When the pain comes again, push as hard as you can!”

Sansa appeared in the room and let out a gasp and then a shriek. “Ser Jaime!” she screamed. “Thank the Gods!” her arms were filled with bundles of clean cloth and a pitcher of hot water. Podrick swept the pitcher from her hand and she sat the bundle on the bed next to Gilly.

“Look Sansa, can you see?” Gilly said.

Sansa nodded and backed away slightly at the sight. She swallowed hard and looked over at Podrick. He appeared dumbfounded and a bit queasy. “Pod, maybe you’d better sit down.”

“Here it comes!” Brienne cried as her body tensed. She squeezed Jaime’s hand tightly and sat halfway up. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she cried. “Ahhhh!”

“Push! Push and don’t stop!” Gilly shouted. “That’s wonderful!”

“I’m here, I’m here! Out of the way!” the midwife said as she rushed into the room.

“No!” Brienne said. “Leave her to finish!”

“His head is out my Lady. Please, give us another good push,” Gilly said, giving the midwife a sneer.

“Come on my darling. You’re doing so wonderful. Our son is almost here,” Jaime whispered to her as she gathered every bit of strength she had left. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She smiled up at him for a heartbeat and then again, she rose up and pushed.

“Take her legs!” Gilly shouted at Sansa and the midwife.

A moment later, a strange and satisfying feeling of relief overcame Brienne as the child slipped free of her into Gilly’s waiting hands. She could hear Gilly patting firmly on the child’s back several times until at last, she heard a sharp slap and the wailing cry of her first born.

“It’s a girl my Lady,” Gilly said, nearly breathless. “A very big, pink and healthy girl!”

Gilly laid the red faced squalling infant on Brienne’s stomach and the midwife went to work cutting the cord. “You did a wonderful job young woman. I believe you may have found your place here,” the much older woman said to Gilly.

 Sansa waved Jaime to the wash basin to quickly clean his hands so he could touch his daughter for the first time. Brienne barely noticed. All she could see was the beautiful child now cradled in her arms until Jaime reappeared above her and stroked the child’s head softly as she quieted beneath their touch.

“We’ve still much to do,” the midwife said softly. “Now comes the unpleasantries of birth. Ser Jaime, if you and the other gentleman would mind, this is a woman’s deed. I assure you, everything is fine and we’ll come get ye as soon as we’re through.”

Jaime kissed Brienne as he wept and gently cradled their daughter’s head and kissed her too. “I’ll go find a bath. It’s been a long journey,” he whispered. “I’m never leaving you again and this time, I mean it.” He struggled a bit to his feet and grimaced, as his hand lifted gently from the baby’s head and then flew to his side.

“You’re hurt,” Brienne said. Her expression filled with worry.

“I’ll be fine. You do what these ladies tell you and I’ll see you as soon as their done.”

~:~:~:~

With her child bathed and swaddled, and cradled to her chest, Brienne gazed down at the angel in her arms as she slept peacefully. She’d counted her fingers and toes and already committed every little wisp of blond hair on her head to memory. “Is she not the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen?” Brienne asked as Sansa lowered herself into the chair next to the bed.

“She’s marvelous Lady Brienne. She’s like an angel,” Sansa replied, appearing in awe of the plump and peaceful infant.

“May my husband come in now?” Brienne asked the midwife, who was tying up the sack of soiled linens.

“Yes m’lady. We’re through here. I’ve examined the afterbirth and it appears intact. You’re to remain in that bed with your babe for three days. No less or you could start the bleeding before the healing clots are ready. You may sit to use the chamber pot but if you see any sign of running blood or have any sharp pain at all, you send for me straight away,” the woman said sternly. “Save your afterbirth rags. I’ll need to examine them when I return. I’ll be back to check on ye tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be nearby as well,” Gilly said. “The baby will be ready to eat sometime this evening when she wakes. Poor little things are just as tired as we are right after their born. They can sleep for hours but when they wake, it’s best to get them started on the breast straight away.”

“Gilly, I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what I’d have done without you,” Brienne said, reaching out for Gilly’s hand.

“I’m just grateful to have helped. A healthy baby and mother is twice the blessing.” Gilly washed her hands again and smiled at Sansa. “You’re next I suppose. And then, me.” Gilly smiled, placing her hand over her stomach.

“Well it appears Winterfell is springing back to life faster than I’d dreamed,” Sansa said. “Congratulations Gilly. Please give Sam our congratulations as well.” Immediately her face grew cold as she remembered the tragedy of Queen Daenerys own birth the month before. The baby girl was healthy and strong but losing Daenerys, with Aegon away in Kings Landing had been the saddest day Winterfell had seen since the war started; perhaps even more so. The child was a beautiful black haired babe and grew stronger each day with her wet nurse. She was well cared for and loved. Sansa prayed for Aegon’s safe return every time she held the child. That night, Drogon flew off had hadn’t been sighted since.

Brienne looked down at the baby and then over at Sansa. “You know I love you but as soon as we’re able, Jaime and the baby and I will be going to Tarth as I’d planned,” Brienne said, pulling Sansa from her sadness.

 “I know,” Sansa said solemnly. “Let’s just enjoy what time we have left.” Sansa kissed the baby atop her head and then kissed Brienne’s cheek. “Soon enough I’ll have plenty to keep me occupied and to keep my mind from those hauntings. I will miss you more than you know.”

“We’ll miss you too. I’d like to say we can visit but let’s not make promises we may not be able to keep.”

“May I come in now? It feels like hours since I’ve seen my ladies,” Jaime said, smiling wide and dimpled from the doorway.

“They are all yours Ser Jaime. You are indeed the luckiest man alive today,” Sansa said as she passed him on her way out. “I’ll come back later to check on you,” she said and closed the door.

“Alone at last,” Jaime said, sitting down slowly next to Brienne, on the bed. Again, he winced slightly as he settled.

“You bathed,” Brienne said, pretending to sniff him. “Thank the Gods.” She laughed softly. “Would you like to hold your daughter?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he answered, as she lifted the baby and rested her into the crook of his right arm. “She’s like the beautiful white wing of a dove.” Jaime stroked her downy white hair softly with his fingertips.

“Are you going to tell me now about your injury?” she asked, resting her hand on his where it sat cradling the baby.

“Battle wounds my love. I took a good beating in Kings Landing. I’m an old man now you know.” He smiled. “It takes us longer to heal. Please, don’t worry. I’m here now and we can discuss all of the bloody nonsense next week or next year for all I care. This little dove is all that matters now.”

“She needs her father. I need her father. I trust you’re always honest with me, Jaime. I won’t worry as long as I know you’ll be fine.”

“Father,” he whispered softly. After several moments he asked, “Podrick explained to me that we are going to Tarth as soon as you and the baby are well enough to travel.”

“Yes. I’m certain my father would love to meet his first grandchild as well as his son in law.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea, don’t you little dove?” Jaime whispered to his daughter. “Do you know your mother is the bravest and most honorable knight in all of the seven kingdoms? She nearly bested your father once. I know you’ll be as strong and beautiful and honorable as she is…as will your brothers and sisters,” he said, leaning down to kiss her head and then looking up from under his brow at Brienne with that devilish grin she loved.

“So, it’s over? All of it?” Brienne asked. Her tone was pensive and cautious. “You do know what I mean?”

Jaime sighed and his gaze turned cold. “It’s over. King Aegon has remained in Kings Landing to sort the rest. I’ve given Tyrion Casterly Rock. He’s always wanted it and I really couldn’t care less where we live as long as we’re together. We are free to live our lives as we choose. I choose to get fat and make beautiful children and grow old with you,” Jaime said, leaning over as Brienne sat up and met him above their daughter’s peaceful slumber with a deep and loving kiss.

“How many children and just how fat?” she asked, kissing him again.

“Slow down darling. Not too fat to make more children.” He winked. “One a year perhaps?” he chuckled softly as he sat back.

“Dove,” Brienne said over a sleepy sigh.

“Yes she is indeed a beautiful dove,” Jaime said, gently rocking their daughter in his arms.

“Her name should be Dove. Dove Joanna Lannister of Tarth.”

“It’s perfect,” Jaime said. “What do you think? Shall we name you Dove?” Jaime whispered to her. Her big blue eyes fluttered open and she stretched long in his arms, making a soft cooing sound. “Well mother, it appears our Lady of Tarth approves. Brienne? Brienne?”

The room was silent but for Brienne’s soft breathing as she drifted off to sleep. Jaime slowly stood with Dove cradled in his arms, and walked to the window. The sun had begun to rise over the new Winterfell, and as its beams reached across the lands before him, the fingers of light crept from the ground below up the castle wall and into the window, illuminating Dove’s golden hair. “Here’s your new world, Dove. I want to tell you a secret but you must keep it between us. Promise? I was a knight you see. I fought for many years with a sword and then, one day, I met this glorious and beautiful lady knight. For years we fought battles in the dark and then one day, fate brought us back together. Before we knew it, there you were. Now here is the most important secret of all so you mustn’t tell all right? Your mother believes I did it all for honor but the truth is, I did it all for love.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This evening, I dozed off and took a nap. I had a dream I was in some strange place, sitting on the ground leaning back against a stone wall. My mother had been in the dream but she wandered off and said goodbye. Suddenly out of nowhere, I looked up and there stood Jaime Lannister himself in all of his beautiful glory. He was speaking with someone else and then turned and noticed me sitting there. He stepped towards me and knelt down in front of me and said, "Well hello there." Oddly in my dream, we knew each other and apparently very intimately as when he knelt in front of me, I reached up and took his face in my hands and said, "Can we talk later?" and he replied, "You have a story to finish. Perhaps after that."  
> Suddenly, I awoke. My cat was still perched next to my head on the sofa. I closed my eyes because I wanted desperately to return to the dream but I couldn't. Instead, I did what he asked. 
> 
> I hope you have all enjoyed this story. I have another in my head fr these two crazy kids. If Jaime - Nikolaj comes to me in a dream again, I'm sorry but I refuse to wake up and write the entire night. I'd rather keep on dreaming. 
> 
> All the best to you my lovies. See you soon.


End file.
